


I am NOT just a girl to protect

by Gavorche_san



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavorche_san/pseuds/Gavorche_san
Summary: Sayuriama Senju is beautiful, wealthy, and sister to the most powerful Shinobi in the world.With everything at her fingertips, she finally discovers the one thing she can not have; A dark-eyed Uchiha who refuses to play by the rules.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Uchiha Madara/Original Character(s), Uchiha Madara/Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Madara/Reader
Comments: 53
Kudos: 173





	1. Scroll 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally reposting this bad boy. Finished, just needs editing. Let me know if there are errors and I'll fix 'em!

The morning sun was just peeking above the far blue mountain range, still weak thanks to the heavy gray clouds that obscured most of the sky. The sight did not go unappreciated by one of the two solitary figures that stood in the drizzle, though both were fairly happy. The morning was wet, and the constant muck threatened to soak through their clothes, but neither man seemed bothered. 

It seemed that spring always brought a feeling of renewal, one that seemed especially poignant for The Land of Fire these days.

Hashirama Senju stood with his brother, Tobirama, before the tall wooden gates behind them. Behind that was the main entrance, and beyond, _The Village Hidden in the Leaves_.

Hashirama was determined it was going to be a good day, and nothing easily changed his mind once he was set on a course. It was a shame that Tobirama's melancholy nature was doing its usual job of telling him to be wary of good things, and he couldn't help feel the slightest trace of foreboding. It would have been rather comedic for others to see such figures of renown hanging around like wet cats, but neither Senju brother had ever been one to worry about a bit of rain.

As the older brother, Hashirama glanced towards his junior sibling.

It was half instinct, half his ability to sense the unusual air his brother was exuding. Tobirama rarely was the type to fidget, the more serious and calm of the two, but serenity wasn't in his nature. Dark circles lined his rare sort of purple eyes, which were busy scanning the area. A clear sign of a building apprehension, one that started a long time ago. Another of his glances, towards the gate, admitted his distrust of the guard.

It was not surprising, Hashirama noted, that the young man there was an Uchiha.

But Hashirama did not break his own, constant look of contentment, a marked contrast to the near-permanent frown etched on his younger brother.

He never supposed it was going to be easy to heal old wounds, but today Hashirama didn't want to focus on Tobirama's utter dislike of the guard, nor his clan. There was excitement building in him. Today, he said firmly, was going to be a good day.

Hashirama forced a smile as he noticed Tobirama brushing raindrops out of his white hair. Tobirama seemed to ignore the fact that his hair was now plastered to the metal headband he always wore, the headband his mother gave to him-.

The elder brother closed his eyes, shaking away the memory.

Not today. 

He was not going to think of a rain-soaked night today.

.

.

Hashirama ignored the desire to sit in dark memories and instead quantified the time it had taken to get here.

Exactly how long _had_ it been? Five-six years?

No, far longer.

Nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days, and eight hours. 

Endless little letters, nondescript, utterly devoid of depth, only the barest of tidings to ensure wellbeing.

It had been nine years since they had been forced to leave their young sister in the care of their allies and cousins, the Uzumaki Clan.

Five years since he had last saw her little face, half-hidden behind the large Tori Gates at the entrance of _The Village Hidden in the Whirlpools_. 

The memory of her fierce face gazing at him was burned into his mind. Guilt filled him, as a bit of wry humor at her making such an expression, but emotion kept in check was a necessity. He had only been a rising warrior at the time, and the shinobi world was no place for a little girl with no training. 

He felt it had never been a place for children.

All the sacrifices, all the lives lost were carved into him. It built him, as well as _The Village Hidden in the Leaves_ because he wanted somewhere he could put those he loves and keep them safe.

But, alas, he knew he was waxing poetically redundant, and his letters to his sister failed to convey just what his goals had always been. To put any personal information could put a spotlight on the Uzumaki clan, as well as endanger her. And heaven knows, if she was as pretty as the Uzumaki's had said, she didn't need any more attention.

If Hashirama _was_ going to admit that he wasn't all laughs, it was probably because he wasn't quite sure who exactly his sister was. Anymore, at least. 

Would this village be a place she would be safe? Or would she return to the Land of Whirlpools, to remain mostly isolated in an outpost shrine, surrounded by women?

He hoped he could offer her more.

The treaty between the Uchiha and Senju remaining firm, he couldn't think of anything that would stop her from enjoying an unusually peaceful life. To tear her away from her life in Village Hidden in the Whirlpools was risky, even if she wrote that she was desperate to be with them again. Stability was a precious thing. If it didn't work out, his worries about her would never end because soon his dearest enemies would know he had a sister who didn't know a lick of ninjutsu.

He was mature enough to admit that he had delayed this reunion a bit too long, thanks to this fear.

It continued to drizzle which didn’t help his anxiety. Another memory surfaced of his sister, in the rain, and he thrust it away fiercely from his mind. He needed to focus on something positive again.

“Do you think the weather is a good or bad omen?” He turned, hands folded in his arms.

Tobirama raised a brow.

“I hadn’t thought of it.” He answered without a thought. “But rain doesn’t do any favors when a man is drowning. The humidity here is its own weapon.”

Hashirarma put a hand on his waist, adjusting his sandals in the wet grass, blades sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “Better than wandering in a drought.”

Tobirama just shook his head, too bothered by other thoughts to give a real answer. His real worries surfaced in his next query. "Though one wonders if dying of thirst with a comrade is better than living with an enemy."

"Do you see our sister as an enemy?" Hashirama joked, and Tobirama gave a flat smirk.

“Ten years?” Tobirama questioned, turning to him and wiping the rain off his metal forehead guard. "Anyone can be turned friend or foe with enough time." His hair had turned white early in life, giving him a mature visage to match his stern personality, but preferred a less visible role. He liked his brother as the figurehead and working on his pet projects. 

“I'd say friend, most likely. Unless she recalls us pulling her pigtails.” Once again Hashirama smiled at him, pointing his dark eyes to the silent, misty forest. 

"Then foe?" Tobirama said drily. 

"Almost certainly."

They were practically shooting the breeze. Tobirama tapped his fingers, impatiently. Was the convoy late, or was he just overly nervous?

Hashirama knew what he was thinking. He had already gone over every possible aspect that could have gone wrong with such a move. Robbers, poor villagers desperate for supplies, or worst, enemy clans. He had hoped the quick pace and short route would help them, but he could so clearly see the cracks in his plan. Tobirama was almost impossible to calm when he felt his plans exposed himself.

But of course, Hashirama noted with suppressed humor, Tobirama's planning somehow coincided with another envoy's trip to the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. The fact that Madara Uchiha was out of the village was probably why Tobirama had planned it for today.

And the Uzumaki had been getting impatient with them.

He wanted the long-awaited family reunion to be special, as it had been too long since the remaining Senju family was complete. He was still such a fool. Careless. He should have gone himself. Why did he put his sister’s fate in someone else’s hands?

A dark moment in the rain gave Hashirama time to wonder, grimly, how Madara Uchiha was doing trying to convince the Daimyo of the Land of Fire to contribute financially to their village. It was something he literally could not afford to have Madara to fail at. 

He knew Madara was not a patient man when it came to politics with nobility, but Hashirama had wanted to prove Madara's devotion to the village. 

Tobirama put a hand on his shoulder, and Hashirama realized he had been grimacing.

“I heard they call her Sayurimaru,” Tobirama said, the humor thick in his voice despite a deceptive stoic face.“At least that’s what the Uzumaki clan have been calling her.” 

Hashirama grinned at the thought.

“Lily spirit? It seems they have her spoiled!” Hashirama joked, already feeling lighter. Tobirama looked as if there was nothing more ridiculous in the world than gifting a young woman with a moniker, and Hashirama had to admit it was fairly fantastical. 

Their young sister, a feisty, angry little girl that rarely took baths and liked sharp knives did not match the image of mystical beauty.

“They say,” Tobirama continued, with only the slightest quirk on his lips, “That Sayuriama is a divine beauty. That even the spirit of grace in the next world bows for her.”

Hashirama couldn’t help but break into hard laughter. For the first time, a bit of sunlight peaked through the clouds. 

“Heavenly? Little Sayuriama?” 

Tobirama snorted, as he thought the girl was more a mischievous little brat. Hashirama grinned, unable to disagree. 

“Apparently the Gods replaced battle skill with an absurd amount of beauty." Tobirama continued. "That’s what the Uzumaki letter was referring to.” Tobirama finally cracked an actual smile, the red marks on his face stretching. 

“When you said beauty before, I thought that they were sending her ghost." Hashirama guffed. "But if the letter said that, then maybe they’re actually sending her.” It was a long-running joke between the brothers (though no one else in the Senju clan would ever dare join in) that Sayuriama Senju had about no ability for combat, and hadn't since childhood. As a child, she couldn’t run in a straight line, and more often than not she’d trip before the third step. She had almost managed to take them out- As an accident. After one particular incident including expensive porcelain and a few fires, the clan had been ordered by his Father to not her near any form of dangerous material. 

It caused chuckles through the Senju halls after the initial desolation was dealt with, and most of the clan was still fond of her thanks to that same spirit that often brought happiness as well. What she lacked in ability, she made up in spirit. So notwithstanding the constant teasing, few people held higher esteem in the Senju brothers’ eyes than their precious sister.

In the distance, a branch twitched.

Their heads snapped to it, sensing honing in.

 _There_.

Tobirama knelt, finger to the ground like he was taking its pulse.

"It's them. The entire group made it." He nodded, eyes narrowing as he stood. "Get ready."

"I am-" Hashirama winked, "-always ready."

The first brown horse burst from the tree line, followed closely by other horses forming in a tight formation. As usual, Tobirama was correct, and Hashirama could see all the expected guests. 

A strange wave of apprehension struck Hashirama, a twinge of pain.

He would think about that moment for years to come, until his dying breath.

_If only he had known-_

"Finally." Turning to Tobirama, Hashirama noticed that his frown had abated into a mildly more genial look of relief. It automatically put him in a better mood, casting away any hint of terrible apprehension. Though, Hashirama’s hands were tightly hidden behind his back, has he attempted to keep the slight shaking from being too apparent. Tobirama was polite enough to not mention it.

He instead crossed his arms, putting his entire focus on the encroaching group. 

Normally, Hashirama was would have fabricated a structure as the horses came closer, but he did not trust himself to do any ninjutsu, for fear his enthusiasm would break open the earth and trees would erupt where they ought not to be. He decided not to use any ninjutsu, so he wouldn’t attract very much attention.

But to go unnoticed entirely was a far too great a hope.

The brothers might have been more concerned if they paid enough attention to note the sentries were two bright young Uchiha men who were very interested in what they were saying. Both capable of using the Sharingan and reading lips, Hayo and Ashura's world was about to be changed. 

**\--X--**

A morning shift on top of the great wood wall, standing in the pouring rain, was not a desirable post. Ashura had distinctly grumbled receiving it, and his mother had smacked him for it. Hayo faired with a better attitude, but even he disliked spending early mornings being soaked to the bone.

Young, good-looking, and capable in battle, no non-Uchiha would think them any different than any other young men in their clan.

But they were. Ashura and Hayo were the only two that had advanced their mastery of the Sharingan to be considered proficient, and neither had died. That automatically had them in the category of a dangerous enemy, though both had been fortunate to never have been targeted.

Now they were used as lookout guards. They themselves were paired often, and very much tired of one another. Folding his arms, doing his best not to freeze under the veranda, Ashura did his best to compare himself to everyone around him. Paired with his dark blue hair and black eyes he had convinced more than one woman he was the man of their dreams. Something that had often led to blows when he was younger, but now was used as a tool of manipulation to get what he wanted. Now, he had aimed that same tool to try and weasel his way through the clan ranks.

While _he_ was ambitious, very Uchiha in manner and speech, and Hayo... was not. 

Though Ashura would rather die than talk to Hayo again. He was hardly an Uchiha! He was too excitable, liked talking to the other clans, making new friends, to an embarrassing degree. Where another Uchiha would be mostly attempting to figure out how to use this new information to advance the clan, he was just excited to be alive. 

_“Perhaps if you settled down with a nice young Uchiha girl instead of making eyes with those hussies from other clans, you’d get better.” He heard Hayo's sister remark said with no small degree of venom. Hayo just shrugged it off._

Yet, it had been Hayo who was chosen to assist the Clan Leader upon his return. Even know the burning envy filled him, and he bared his teeth, glaring at him.

Ashura hated Hayo.

Hayo knew this and shrugged it off.

It wasn’t his fault that Ashura was stiff, unfriendly, and unwilling to cooperate. Or that girls from other clan's liked being around him. Besides, the women from _other_ clans were far more exciting if not always quite as pretty as the Uchiha. A sense of humor went a long way for him. The day the Clan started building in their part of the compound, he had fallen in love with about fifteen beauties of all shapes and sizes. And they liked him back, enjoyed smiling and giggling.

It was amazing.

And on normal days the gate was a great place to gaze at them, occasionally adding to those numbers. He wasn't a fan of rainy, early mornings as it scared away any admirer who would normally venture his way. Being paired with Ashura was another constant in his life that he was tired of.

But it wasn't all for naught.

There was some very unusual behavior for even the highly abnormal Senju Clan, and he couldn’t help but activate his Sharingan. This was just the beginning of the day’s surprises. The Clan Leader would certainly want to know why Hashirama Senju was standing in the rain, this early in the morning. Hayo was just bored and curious enough to dare tune in. After all, he was very good at lip-reading, and it was his Uchiha specialty. 

At some point Ashura also finally gave in to his curiosity, venturing into the rain to spy on the Senju.

_It was a family reunion, he quickly discerned._

Hayo continued to watch, more openly now, curiously taking in the Uzumaki Crest, emblazoned around the front horse's neck.

With his Sharingan activated he hung onto every word, mouth falling open as he finally caught the one he had been diligently searching for.

_Sister._

_._

_._

What?!?!

The great _Senju_ lords...

Had a sister.

Ashura and Hayo looked to one another, opposing personalities cast aside in a moment of Clan Unity.

"It was not a coincide that Madara was pushed to The Land of Fire." Ashura surmised beautifully. Madara's visiting the Lord of the Land of Fire was now suspicious at best. He, nor any other ninja worth their salt didn’t believe in coincidences. Perhaps this could be used to the Uchiha’s advantage. 

Hayo walked forward across the walk to get a better look at the approaching clan. Previously appearing as only smudged dots in the rain, now they were clear to examine, all wearing thick dark blue cloaks. There were five in the group, two women in the middle of three men. These cloaks were embroidered with the orange symbol of the Land of Whirlpools, keeping even their chins shielded. An unusual precaution.

Hashirama raised a hand, and behind him, wood shot out from the ground and the company had a temporary shelter over the top of them.

Hayo looked in admiration, glad the war was over-the Lord Hashirama was amazing. Ashura wrinkled his nose at the sight of such power. One sign and he made a virtual veranda, and with no obvious effort, or chakra expenditure. As a matter of fact, and most of the figures had above average chakra. 

The Uzumaki and the Senju came together, clearly awaiting each other. They exchanged greetings and only then did the Uzumaki dismount their tired-looking horses. Rather unique, flaming red into view and Hayo smiled it. Ashura was in the middle of giving him a lofty sneer when the smallest figure, forcefully descending of their own volition, finally struggled to the ground and gained their footing.

It was apparent that it was a woman, due to the manner she moved and humored by its rather clumsy attempts to dismount alone, both Uchiha locked on her.

Then she took her hood off.

**\---X---**

The hood slipped off carelessly, and rich dark hair spilled around the blue-clad shoulders of the young woman. Her gaze was direct and unwavering, her long lashes fluttering as she took in the Senju before her.

Hashirama’s mouth dropped open, a strangled sound escaping. Tobirama’s arms tightened, jaw clenching as hard as his fingers were. Comparatively, it had gone well.

Her mouth twitched, either in anger or discomfort, and she cleared her throat. She turned, ready to step forward, but the beauty before them suddenly slipped.

Though her initial dismount was rough, she was saved from further humiliation as both brothers flashed forward, Hashirama reaching her first. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her regain footing on the soft ground.

"Goodness, little sister, same as ever."

"I must saw Hashirama, one couldn't help but fall at your ugly face." She sneered, and the ice that had been building broke as he laughed.

A glimmer of tears appeared in Hashirama's wide eyes, enough to give her the ability to avert the coming depression he was liable to fall into. She swiftly turned, catching him both in a large hug, then swiftly moving to Tobirama who awkwardly patted her head. Their grins lit up the morning, and if by cue, a sunbeam pierced the cloudy day, hitting them, her face suddenly spotlighted.

As the sunlight finally broke, the brothers had made similar discoveries and deductions. 

They may be _screwed_.

They had underestimated the Uzumaki's letters (and complaints).

Because their sister had become more beautiful than anyone they had ever remembered seeing. 

Her thick hair, similar to Hashirama’s color, had a shine and length that he never would hope to achieve. That same glorious hair framed a slightly wet face, as pale as Tobirama. The heart-shaped face gave a cheeky grin as if catching them saying something funny.

Her violet eyes teased at purple, something in-between blue and red. They were exactly set in the well-shaped face, framed by thick lashes that were untouched by soot or makeup (which would have obvious, as it would have been dripping off her face). Generous lips grinned, creating the most adorable dimpled smile, below a perfect nose. Her swan neck held up her exquisite face, and the movement of the thick cloak couldn't hide her slender shoulders. There were no blemishes, no scars, nor were her features irregular or misaligned in any way. In a world where the constant war had taken them all and spit them back out, leaving them with so many shortcomings and physical injuries, she seemed unearthly.

Everything was set in perfection, like a master painter’s ultimate study of perfection, personified in a tangible young woman, a spirit who had a smile just a touch too sly for the good of others.

In a world of battle scars and disfigurements, she was a spirit of some sort!

Her attitude, however, was far from ethereal.

She pulled back, placing a hand over her chest.

“Please tell me, Tobi, that Hashirama has stopped his horrible gambling habit!” She said faking distress, fluttering her eyelashes. Her voice was like smooth honey, on the low side, cultured and silvery. _Oh no_ , Tobirama thought, _she's a flirt._

This was _a disaster._

Hashirama must have felt similar, as he gave a slight frown for a moment, and to his credit, swiftly hid it. He already knew that plenty of men would be in love with her by the end of the day, only to be spurned by the end of the week.

“How you wound me, younger sister!” Hashirama said, looking a bit stricken this is how she would choose to greet them.

“Of course he hasn’t.” Tobirama cut across him smoothly. “Reckless as ever.”

Sayuriama giggled. 

Uzumaki Clan members breathed deeply, taking in the newfound freedom. _The girl wasn’t their responsibility anymore._ The leader of the mission, the old man of the group, about died in peace right then. This perfectly contrasted the worry that was just beginning to dawn on the brothers. Despite being excellent shinobi, they had no idea how to handle this.

And when the village saw her, the Senju brothers would be the ones to fight the marriage proposals, the attempted kidnappings, and worst of all, her fickle moods.

Sayuriama stepped aside, letting Hashirama move forward to greet the rest of the clan as she and Tobirama met. 

Hashirama laughed awkwardly, perhaps to cover his real thoughts of this unexpected turn of events. As honest as most of the letters the Uzumaki sent had been, he hadn’t taken it as seriously as he should have. 

The only other woman who came, Mito Uzumaki, had smiled at the reunited Senju clan. One of the few who had known Sayuriama since she had arrived, and who got to visit her often, she had a pretty good idea of what everyone was feeling. And though Mito was travel-worn, she was also quite lovely, and she gazed fondly at Sayuriama. 

Hashirama immediately noticed her.

Something flickered in his eyes as Mito smiled at him, and he gave a small smile back, more nervous than ever. Mito had met Hashirama Senju a few years ago when he was merely a budding leader and fighter. She hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten her either.

Of course, her deciding to come hadn't been mere chance. She had decided that if Hashirama remained the same happy, good man he had been, she was going to make him her husband. Of course, Sayuriama quite liked Mito and had given her consent immediately. 

But it was far too cold here, and she gave a distinct shudder that he picked up on, and Hashirama immediately rerouted them into the village. They shortly reached Senju compound, both Senju brothers dealing with at least one lovely woman holding their arm and pointing out things for them to explain. 

They passed many temporary residences, tents, and weak wooden structures, not many people there as it was still too early for most. The few they did pass abjectly stared in wonder, and Hashirama knew that the entire village would be informed of this young stunning woman before the day was out. 

Hashirama knew his world was about to become very different. 

And he had a feeling his own bachelorhood was over, and he couldn't help but agree when Mito said she would be staying as an emissary from Uzushiogakure. With the rest of the Uzumaki settled, Mito proceeded to tell him several very funny stories, including the reason these guards had been chosen; they were all happily married, and simply didn't want to risk the pretty Sayuriama into an unmarried, or unhappy clan members. Even married, it had been hard for the happily married men not to gawk at her, and Sayuriama was practically forced to keep her hood the entire journey. 

If Sayuriama noticed Hashirama’s attention on Mito, she didn't mention it.

Her attention remained entirely on Tobirama, and he was beginning to wear that long-suffering look. But that occasional smile he tried to hide said more he could hope too, and she had remembered that. So she continued to make him take her around the compound, despite her own fatigue. 

As they got further into the compound Hashirama took it upon himself to enthusiastically showcase the better, more finished structures. When they finally reached her room, Sayuriama sighed in wonder at the unique wooden residence. And that Mito had nodded in approval, clearly impressed.

It was like a strange dream in the misty, rainy morning.

**\---X---**

Hayo was frozen on the top of the lookout and hadn’t moved for most of the morning. He didn’t know whether he had been put under a Genjutsu, was seeing a spirit, or a real woman.

The redhead women had been attractive, but this Senju girl?

A goddess!

No doubt this was Amaterasu, goddess that shines in heaven, returning to her home. Hayo put a hand through his dark hair, realizing that he was sweating. The Senju Uchiha Alliance had defiantly been a good move for all single Uchiha men.

Ashura continued to sneer.

**\---X---**

Later, when the envoy was settled, the family enjoyed a small breakfast in a lovely Senju gathering room. Sayuriama sipped at her tea, covertly looking to Hashirama who was regaling Mito with tales of his recent work. Mito, in turn, seemed a bit entranced at the enthusiasm and attention of the brown-haired man. 

Sayuriama shifted on her seat, looking to Tobirama, who seemed content to just relax. He turned to her.

“They’ll be no end of trouble.” He said, making the girl smile, as was his intention. Sayuriama grinned.

“I missed you, Tobirama.” His eyes widened, then his small smile widened into a rare, content one. He put an arm around her shoulder for a moment before letting go. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard and long for.

“Glad you’re here.” He said quietly.

She smirked, carefully not to irritate him. 

“As _I_ , dear older brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bad boy (slaps fanfiction) can hold so many words


	2. Scroll 2

The name Madara Uchiha did more to bring awe, fear, and trepidation to the world than most armies combined. A myth, no, a legend in the making, the patriarch of the Uchiha Clan and the wielder of the Sharingan. And in some circles, a man who killed his brother to obtain the power of a demon.

Not often, was the man remembered for his mortality. So it can be forgotten that he was a man, and certain things annoyed even him.

There were three things, as a matter of fact, that he loathed.

The first would be meandering, long trips. The type where nothing was accomplished, no intelligent mind insight, and not a single battle worth his sweat. 

If Hashirama Senju, and several Uchiha Elders, hadn’t specifically begged him to peacefully impress the Fire Daimyo (the potential ‘benefactor’ of the new leaf village) and make several unnecessary promises, bad things would have occurred. Peaceful being the keyword there. 

Madara didn’t have the patience for fools. He would have gladly ‘convinced’ that rich old buzzard off a cliff, with the honor of his sword through his belly, had he not been so specifically entreated. The Lord was disrespectful, speaking in flowery language as most wealthy, ‘privileged’ men who used to control the land did, always trying to outwit and outmaneuver the (more than generous) proposed treaties offered. 

Men like him were meant torn down by shinobi like Madara, the old lords who thought shinobi still bowed to them. Yet Hashirama was somehow convinced that peace was the answer.

And here he was. 

The second thing that was unforgivable happened to be that very man who sent him off to this kami-forsaken mission. 

It would be a lie to say Madara Uchiha didn’t respect Hashirama Senju, but it was hard-won respect. It was thanks to the fact he could hardly stand Tobirama Senju that he didn’t object. It would be held over his head forever if that brat thought he was nervous to leave the Uchiha Clan.

He fully trusted his clan. Or the three men he left in charge. Many wouldn’t dare reject any of the Senju ideas. It was as if they couldn’t think for themselves, or the clan.

Of course, when Izuna had been around, they didn’t have to.

Spikes of pain filled him, as did the desire for him to just start a fight. The memory of his brother was a constant reminder in the back of his head. He hated when the voiced whispered failure, whispered his eventual doom, the destruction of the Uchiha. His anger was constantly below the surface, ready to bubble up at the slightest provocation. 

A reckless soldier of the Daimyo’s had gotten a bit cocky during the visit. Saburo Uchiha assured him that he wouldn’t be found.

The last thing that bothered him was when knowing full well he had just returned and was resting, a clan member dared to wake him.

Madara couldn’t help go over these things as he slowly choked the life out of the man who infringed on number three. 

If it hadn’t specifically been Hayo Uchiha, who he vexingly remembered was the younger brother of Setsuna, and probably had permission to disturb him. Madara almost hoped it was an urgent situation, because who knows what kind of carnage could come upon the Uchiha compound that day from the Clan Leader? 

Hayo did gasp in relief as Madara let go, his body going to the wood floor.

“This had better be an emergency.” He drawled, voice coldly directed at the young man struggling for breath.

Madara sat on the wall at the back of his small bed, angrily looking down at his subordinate. With dismay, Hayo noticed that Madara’s eyes were blood red, and not just from lack of sleep. Hayo Uchiha, like every Uchiha, was proud of his mastery over their Kekkei Genkai. But the Clan leader was on a whole different level. 

Eternal red eyes, eyes removed from kin.

It made him squirm those cursed eyes stared him down. He looked away, scratching his dark head nervously. He decided on a bow.

“Forgive me, Lord Uchiha.” He said as monotone as he could.

“Did I not tell you that you should report to Sestuna if you needed anything less than an emergency?”

“Yes, but Ashura said I sho-” Madara raised a hand, cutting him off. Typical. He arched a mocking eyebrow.

“Is Ashura Uchiha the head of this clan?”

“Of course not, Lord Madara.” He said head down. But Hayo didn’t leave. Brave, foolish boy.

“Get on with it!” Madara growled. He hardly moved as he kept his arms crossed, restraining himself from murder.

“Lord Madara, the Lord Hashirama and Tobirama Senju wish to speak with you as soon as morning comes. They wish to know-” Hayo looked up, cutting off cold from his report. 

They called it the Mangekyo Sharingan, and Hayo had never had the opportunity to see it up close, the red eyes. His mouth went dry as he got caught in the pattern. The promise of menace behind that look that was exclusively Madara Uchiha’s.

“Get out,” Madara said, breaking the spell, “Or I will help you out.”

In two seconds Hayo stumbled as fast as he could, pushing open the sliding door and going through, footsteps pattering down the wooden corridor. Madara jumped out of his bed and stalked towards the dresser. 

He pushed it the rest of the way closed, realizing that Hayo had managed to slightly rip the screen in his rush to leave. 

He inspected the damage on the silk fabric, the Uchiha embroidery stretched, knowing it was ruined. 

Stupid child.

Anger surged through him, as it did a good deal of the time now. The little things his own clan did irritate his mind like sandpaper on the skin. 

He gave the fabric a cynical look. 

What to do? Assign Hayo a triple shift on the wall, or perhaps force him to scoop dung in the fields? None of the ideas abated his anger.

A good sign he was perhaps being irrational.

He usually could work his rage off with a good battle, and those stupid practice training sessions with the Senju managed to take off the edge. But he hadn't had the time in three months to cure the edge of insatiable bloodlust that often pressed at him. 

And there was always his voice, in the back of his head. 

_Failure._

He was born to fight, not asked to go on ridiculous trips to talk to old men who couldn’t even lift a sword while his clan pointlessly argued about which useless member would become his second-in-command. 

He gritted his teeth, and his palm clenched the doorframe.

The wood snapped cleanly, and with a resounding crash, the entire timber frame fell to the ground. The dark blue fabric, emblazoned with the Uchiha crest, ripped unceremoniously in half amidst the debris. For a while, he gazed at the destruction he had caused, knowing the clan would be talking about this behind his back. 

_Is he okay?_ They whisper. _Perhaps the Clan Leader is unwell?_

Without Izuna, they thought they could whisper, talking behind his back and not be heard. It was a hard position. To directly confront those who would plot against him would compromise his position, his stability. Make it worse.

So he let them murmur about how he was unstable, wasn’t thinking clearly. That grief had clouded his mind. That voice, Izuna’s voice, didn’t disagree. His mind endlessly turned over his pain, never showing it, but all the weaker for it. 

Madara took a deep breath, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight across his broad chest. Old sweat mingled with new, and he whirled around angrily.

Loudly destroying his home may not have been the best idea, but no one would dare come knocking at his residence when he was in such a mood. The Uchiha’s were well aware of their temperamental leader’s recent moods. 

To his face, the men respected him, knelt to him, and followed him in battle, and the women served and protected the home, and the daughters hoped to catch his eye. Many of the younger ones swooned over his tall frame, confidence, and standing. To marry one and produce an heir would solidify him, but he did not need to prove his strength. 

He was the strongest of his clan who had ever been born. What’s more, he showed strength to preserve his clan when he had no other choice. He bowed down to the truce to create The Village Hidden in the Leaves with the Senju, despite his entire being rebelling angrily. 

The lumber cracked under his foot, but he didn’t cause more damage. The door no doubt would be completely fixed by the time he got home, but there was little use in trying to resolve his frustrations here.

He narrowed his eyes, which slowly turned darker until the irises were black again.

Despite the clan seemed to humor him as a leader, he had to accept that this village was changing them all. The more time they spent with other clans, the more Uchiha traditions they let slip away. And when he voiced his concerns, they felt him out of touch. Despite barely being in his thirties they found him old and out of touch, not having trustworthy judgment. They doubted his ability to lead, and if he didn’t figure out something he would turn into a figurehead, bereft of real power. 

Even some of the men were beginning to think they knew better bothered him. Combined with that brat jumping in and telling him that the Senju brothers had oh-so-politely had asked him to report in as if he reported to them, and the fact someone had been in his room- the clan head's sacred space- made him long to create a meaningful new war. 

He exhaled, fire running through him. His body screamed for sleep and using the Sharingan, even just to scare the life out of Hayo, was making him annoyingly tired. The mix of utter exhaustion and adrenaline was most displeasing. His darkening temper didn’t bode well for the next day. 

He must have been exhausted, as this made him think of his time with the older Senju embassy, that had accompanied him to the fire lord. Hashirama, that devil, probably did it on purpose, so Madara wouldn’t kill the Daimyo accidentally. It, regrettably, had worked. Madara had been proud of his patience, and even he even believed he had managed to impress the old man Senju with his temperance.

The only time Madara let his own anger out was when he was asked to ‘perform’ his Sharingan. _The sheer insult._

His rage had almost been unleashed, but to prove he was capable of keeping controlled when provoked. 

That was the most successful moment of the entire mission, he estimated with a sneer, thinking of the writhing guards on the floor. They had still been in comas when he left. Leaving a healthy amount of fear in the Daimyo eyes, probably giving nightmares to that feeble son that supposedly was his successor.

Right after that, old man Senju had motioned him aside, waving his hand like a bat flaps its wings.

To his dismay, the old man had a long talk about self-control. It was the very end of the lecture that had caught Madara’s attention and stayed in his memory. He had been reliving the fight when the old man was talking, but when he had looked Madara straight in the eye, he started listening. Madara had raised an eyebrow at the man’s daring. Few men looked into an Uchiha’s red eyes and lived. 

The old man looked seriously at him, and sipped his tea, being careful not to spill on the table with his shaky hands. “Madara, my boy, I think you could probably release that sexual tension if you got a wife.” 

Madara had paused mid-sip, almost choking on the impertinence. The casual use of his name by a Senju was enough to startle, but the additional information?!? With _excellent self-control,_ Madara merely lowered his teacup to the table, softly.

But the tea in his mouth got caught in his throat, and he unceremoniously started coughing. He had put his arm over his mouth, choking into it. The old man didn’t pass a glance over the slight reaction, knowing full well he had Madara’s attention now.

“Typical virgin reaction.” He said callously, rubbing his sparse hair.

“Heh. Is that right?” He said, sarcastic words laced with murderous intent. He was warning the old man, while he still had time. 

“I was the same way when I was your age, boy. Thought I had the world at my fingers. Mind, you _do_ have the world at your fingers, but I think you’d be less stressed if you married a pretty little thing. Women are demanding creatures, but I think you’d find a way to make that benefit you.”

Madara could hardly believe he had been pulled into such a conversation. He hadn’t thought about women for a long time, and his eyebrows raised. There was never a woman worthy enough to even catch his lingering attention. 

Sneering, he stood, leaving the old Senju (and still heavily considering sending him to his deceased wife) to his own opinion. 

The memory made him feel slightly ashamed. The old man had caught him off his guard completely. If he stayed, who knows what would have happened? It would have been a bigger disaster than the embassy. The old man might have started talking about his wedding or, gods save him, his wedding night.

He sneered, the memory turning him even more weary of life. 

He had managed to remove the armor before he fell into bed previously, his long dark shirt a wrinkled mess. His low slung pants had fared better but would need some washing. Those came off also, and he took a long robe out of the closet. He glared, knowing he left it folded on the chair before he left. He pulled the dark blue material onto his toned upper body and tied it at the waist, his lithe chest cutting a handsome figure.

His armor, bandage belt, sword, sickle, and Gunbai lay on or near the desk. Madara’s personal room wasn’t that large, but it was usually incredibly tidy. When his domain, he would control all he could. He noticed almost anything that was out of place in his room.

Madara went back to the bed and stretched himself over it. The only thing that the old man had been successful doing was it had made him think seriously of women and wives, maybe for the first time in years. 

There were many eligible women in the Uchiha clan, ranging from seventeen to seventy-five, and several reasonable ones who would make wives and Clan mistresses of the highest eminent caliber. Many of them gave him longing looks, talked of him, and hoped he would notice them. 

But even the most docile Uchiha wives could be a pain in the rear end because all those women had agendas. None he would consider his equal, and he didn’t even bother to imagine growing to care about them. It was not appealing. 

He closed his eyes, arms raised above his head, long legs stretched out to dwarf the bed. Maybe he would sleep far past dawn just to annoy Hashirama. Perhaps it would be enough reason for Tobirama Senju to try and start another fight. Smirking at the thought, he relaxed his muscled body into sleep. 

A war would be the only mistress he’d dreamt about. 

**\--X--**

Hashirama, on the other hand, wished he had asked Madara to come later in the day. At the time he thought that the Daimyo of the Land of Fire was a top priority, an all-important person who couldn’t be underestimated.

If they managed to get his support they would have fewer troubles with financing in their village, luring merchants, and other things shinobi disliked thinking about. But the Lord continued playing coy, creating tasks for them to check, making almost impossible proposals. He had hoped Madara could convince him being, well, Madara. 

Or alarm him.

Now he was beginning to realize that sleep was much more important than this petty matter of money and stubborn Lords. If one was awakened every single night, they tended to become unreasonable; Even he. While much more taciturn and mature over Madara, even he got a little grouchy over lost sleep.

The God of all Ninja sighed deeply as he turned the corner. 

Hashirama turned the corner of the Senju compound to find Tobirama and Mito Uzumaki staring pointedly at a certain window. Mito smiled widely as she saw Hashirama, and she pulled her night kimono a little tighter around her. It was clear Hashirama and Mito had _it_ for one another. 

Tobirama stepped back, not bothering to smirk, letting the couple fall in step together.

Then all three turned to look at the man who was singing sonnets outside.

Another midnight caller for Sayuriama. The third one this night, as a matter of fact. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT since Sayuriama’s presence became known, things like this had happened. 

The morning was slowly getting closer, and the sky was brighter than before. The change in darkness was showing how long the minstrel had been there. 

He had been a pretty singer but after two hours of being flat out ignored, his voice was starting to break. The trio watched him, feeling a bit pitiful. Hashirama had even managed to give Mito the cloak he had been wearing after she shivered slightly. Finally, after another ten minutes, the love-struck singer left in despair.

If the Senju brothers hadn’t had excellent patience, they would have killed the intruder suitors. The first night they had been alarmed but laughed when they saw the first of what would be many singers to grace their sister's window. Mito, the only one truly aware of what was coming, sighed. The brothers would soon regret the lax manner they had treated the first few suitors. 

Every single night. Tobirama was seriously considering using his Jutsu to start drowning the midnight visitors. The disappointed man jumped away, over the compound walls. Hashirama, after the third night, had made the wooden walls taller, but somehow they still got through.

Sayuriama didn’t make it any easier. She never talked about the situation, like it had never bothered her, or she wasn’t around to hear it. She did sleep in, proving some sort of awareness. She was _quite_ clever.

Her brothers very quickly learned three things.

First, she must have known she was beautiful, but she refused to talk seriously about it with them. It’s as if she only wanted to be beautiful when she could take advantage of the situation. Now, Tobirama could respect that sort of ingenuity, but she didn’t lend her favors easily to her brother, especially when she had been told in no uncertain terms she was not to bother the patrolling ninja. 

Ten years and nothing changes.

And next, because these (gullible) men were so easily charmed and so quickly fell in love, she was never quite impressed. Men even dared face Tobirama’s ire to beg permission for a formal meeting. There was some talk about marriages that quickly was stopped when she threw a huge tantrum, accusing them of wanting to be rid of her. 

Three, she was still a child. A Senju to her core, a snotty, childish, naive, kid determined to get her own way. She was more than worthy in the battle of tongues, and often time this was accompanied by someone becoming bright red as she proved her prowess in conversation.

 _They still loved her_ , Tobirama constantly reminded himself. 

Hashirama had once joked to Tobirama about marrying her to the Lord of Fire’s Son son, to convince him to create the alliance. He was giving the notion of serious thought, especially after another sleepless night. 

The only thing good about these midnight affairs, for Hashirama, that a certain redhead woman in a night robe. He blushed mildly. It was the nightly caller's fault that he was having these forward thoughts. He was fortunate that Mito had been busy and not at the breakfast table when Sayuriama, overhearing the marriage jokes and gave him the one over. For someone completely uninterested in marriage, she seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge of what married people do. He rubbed his cheek in frustration, wondering how he had been outwitted by a silly sister. 

Mito turned to Hashirama, smiling. He would never know how it was Mito’s fault that Sayuriama had such expansive knowledge. Or the fact that both women were planning his marriage to Mito the moment they got to Konoha. Hashirama would probably never know how he got a wife, but he did know that it was women that controlled those relationships.

She smiled up at him, suggesting they walk back together; Tobirama tactfully left the opposite way, to check on Sayuriama. He watched the retreating figures.

As he turned to walk away, his thoughts pained him. It was wonderful to see his brother finding a potential wife after all these lonely years, but after Tobirama had lost his fiancée in battle he shied away from most relationships. 

Tobirama had stiffer humor out of the two brothers, but he also had more time to spend with his sister. He often took her to the places he was working on, showing her his plans. In return, she was quite brilliant when it came to inventive solutions. Who else would have dared consider a mutual class for the young, combining the clans?

His good mood didn’t last till evening. But not when it came to the nightly disturbances. If it weren’t for Hashirama, some love-struck songbirds would be much wetter and in a makeshift hospital.

He went down the wooden walkways, and across the lovely bridge that connected the lone annex, Sayuriama had chosen as her room. 

They had moved Sayuriama’s room closer after the warnings Mito had given to them. Men tended to fall in lust with their younger sister when she was living in Uzushiogakure, and not much had changed. They made sure she was accompanied at all times, much to her mortification, and that it was by a trustworthy clan member who was female. In the daytime, it wasn’t much of a problem, but at night it was flat out ridiculous. Tobirama silently decided that the Village was getting a new law. 

_Don’t bother, she’s not interested._ If you are found on Senju ground, you will be sent to Madara Uchiha to experience his Mangekyo Sharingan, then sent to the front lines.

Tobirama smiled at the thought.

Threatening people with Madara Uchiha almost always worked like a charm, though he was against becoming too friendly with any Uchiha. But, pitting Sayuriama’s beauty to Madara’s scare factor would be interesting. Tobirama stretched his arms, then adjusted his night robe.

It was only half an hour until Madara was supposed to show, and there was really no point in trying to get some shut-eye. He would be damned if Sayuriama thought she was going to sleep in. 

Tobirama yawned, stretching his arms while he crossed the stone path to Sayuriama’s apartment in the compound.


	3. Scroll 3

Sayuriama had never intended to become so beautiful.

After all, she reasoned, beauty was a shallow surface trait that could be easily marred or would eventually fade with time. She certainly didn't want to be ugly, as every girl would tell you, but possessing beauty to the point where you are no longer viewed as a human? In a world where men killed one another for a piece of bread, she had never felt peace away from her brothers. 

This beauty was more of a curse than a blessing. 

She knew that’s not how most people viewed her. They called her blessed, a very visage of beauty incarnate. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know she spoke several languages, understood even more. That she had memorized nearly two hundred ninjutsu scrolls. 

Not even her clan spoke to her like she was an adult, speaking down to her.

They underestimated her because her intelligence would never be as important as her beauty.

It drove her from a comfortable bed every night to try and train because she was exhausted from hearing about her sparkling eyes, her lovable cheeks, the fine shape her lips rested in when she pondered something. And _one more comment on her perfect nose…._

It was better to sit in the bushes, dirty and sore than be subject to that.

_How did these men even get to her window? Why hadn’t her brothers stopped them?_

That’s why she was at the Senju training grounds, still in the compound, but where no one would watch her, where no one could judge. Except for her new _nanny_ , Tsunada. Everyone knew that’s what the older woman recently assigned to her was. Not that Hashirama said that directly when she asked why Mito didn’t have one and she did. He said something about keeping _her virtue_ intact.

She told him _exactly_ where he could put his own virtue. This caused him to go into a depression and sit sadly in despair most of the day. Proprietary was not something people who knew her well would comment about. 

While happy to host her and cater to her whims for a while, quickly her brothers had been drawn back into the village, and subsequently, began forgetting about her. 

Tobirama had been straightforward the last time she had asked.

_“You can’t even walk without tripping, dear sister.” He said pointedly. “And I don’t have time to babysit while creating a city.”_

Tobirama deserved her look of disdain as she left the room, head held proudly. It would have been better if she hadn’t stumbled over the banister on the way out, causing his chuckles to loudly follow her in shame.

If only. If _only._

Fate had certainly been cruel. It was the worse sense of despair to be left, to watch as those you cared for slowly disappeared, never returning from where they ventured. They thought they were doing her a favor but instead had gifted her misery, anxiety, and fear that engrained so deeply it could have been her shadow.

Petulance led by fear, augmented by lack of talent. 

Among the myriad of problems she faced was chakra control. If hand to hand combat was poor, her ninjutsu was non-existent. She never had any skill with hand-eye coordination or grace when it came to fighting. The most she could do was throw a kunai in the general direction she wanted. Learning how to run was a trial. She had to focus her entire being if she wanted to be successful.

Which was strange because as long as she stayed away from the _intentions_ of doing such, she was perfectly capable and balanced, and had learned to move with poise. It was as if her thoughts jinxed her. 

For having such battle proficient brothers as Hashirama and Tobirama, it was embarrassing. Not cute, or as people told her, endearing.

There was no explanation of how her brothers could have such prodigious skill, except they took her as well.

Beauty aplenty, but nothing to back her high claims but the hope her family would continue to live, to be capable enough to save her from the cruel world who wanted to use her.

Inside her, she could feel the frustration bubbling but shook it away. Every kidnapping attempt had managed to be foiled, but she was still left with the fear that one day she wouldn’t be saved, despite being so heavily guarded. 

A long distant memory threatened to return, but as always, she pushed it down. Now there was no time for it. Whether she was still a child or not was debatable, but something that wasn’t is that she was an undeniably desirable target.

A different village, the same voice of admiration. 

Since beauty was all these men knew of her, she felt like she really had no obligation to pay attention. She was always spurred to action because it was _impossible_ to sleep with men constantly outside her window. _How her brothers laughed the first night._ She hoped they didn’t sleep for the next five years- she could catch up during the day while they were out. 

As soon as she bid her family good night, she’d sneak away, missing the annoying wanting lovers. It was really the only time she had alone. After becoming the most kidnapped person in Uzushiogakure (or more likely, the Land of Fire) she felt like she had the right to be the one doing to sneaking. 

Sayuriama had felt like there was something incongruous that night and decided that she should leave the training fields early. Climbing through Hashirama’s understructure was a training in itself, as well as avoiding a few servants who worked nights.

She slipped into her room, sighing in the victory. Not being caught by her brothers was quite the feat, though the way Hashirama looked at her some morning made her feel that she wasn’t that sneaky in her escapades. But he must have been feeling indulgent, for he never mentioned her walking around.

Tsunada had been a surprising ally, tapping into her discontent. They had met the first day she had arrived, and Sayuriama had spent the entire day slipping away, making rude comments, and trying to be as unpleasant as possible. But at every turn, the older woman had been kind, understanding, and never let her slip away for long.

She secretly admired that sort of devotion, and while she felt almost abandoned, Tsunada let her be herself. They talked ninjutsu together, and Tsunada watched her train, correcting things even though she never got better. She explained the security measures Hashirama had, like she could be trusted, avoiding every trap. 

Tonight was the same.

She and Tsunada split up once she was safely in her room. Inside the one area that was her own Sayuriama finally gave in to a deep sigh, letting herself release her exhaustion. Stepping towards the vanity she pulled off the mask first, disconnecting the humid material from her sweaty face.

It was much warmer here than in Uzushiogakure, and she was sure that she’d never get used to it. It was the devil in the daytime, especially since she often was dressed in the traditional kimono. Mito demanded it, saying lightly, as she was she comfortable in hers, that it showed that they were ladies, and they would be treated like them. Sayuriama wondered if she might have some actual friends if the other girls she had seen knew she wasn’t the snobby lady she looked. 

Girls, when she approached, shied away and used any excuse to mock her. Older female villagers tended to avoid her, and even many in the clan treated her with bare respect. All this, Tsunada stated, was due to jealousy. She wanted to scream how she was the same as them, she had no interest in their men. But too many of their boyfriends had been starstruck by her, leaving her derelict of friends. 

The same tale, different city. Mito had been her only friend in the Village Hidden in the Whirlpools. 

Princess, she was called. She laughed when she was first called it. It was all for the propriety of being a Senju sibling in this new city. They were a sort of Royalty in the ninja world, her brothers for their talent, skill, and hard work, and she from a clan association and her face.

She doubted her dead brothers, Kawarama and Itama let her be treated so carefully. Tobirama had always been cool and reserved, and while Hashirama was warm and open even he treated her like an object at times. 

Kawarama was kind and tender, and Itama had been wild and teasing. They chased her over mountains, threw dirt at her, and teased her relentlessly. But they were thrown into battle as children and were long dead. Hashirama and Tobirama had been nearly ten years her senior and were already warriors when she was born. She looked at the mirror, wondering what they would have looked like. Maybe more like her, or her like them? Her chest felt a pang at the thought of her mother, also gone. The only person that had never told her to give up. Her father adored her to the point of never letting her into training. Now he was gone as well.

They didn’t understand her, even though they thought they did. Callous men. Not even Mito had been able to spend much time with her. Tsunada was too old to think it mattered.

She was alone, and everything was new.

Tears threatened to come out, but she couldn’t let them. Too many times she had cried herself to sleep when she first came, and it did nothing. Anger had replaced sorrow.

Sayuriama felt upset as she threw off the rest of the training material she had pilfered from the Senju storage sheds. She would never be anyone of worth if she let these people dictate her life.

Getting down to her off-white slip made some of the pressure leave her chest. She looked at the scratches she had earned, her mussed hair. Fatigue finally hit her, overcoming her discontent. 

Taking a glance down, she thought about recklessly leaving the clothes on the floor, just once. But being the first rule Tsunada set, she would risk the privilege of training if she was found out. And the old woman would smack her for being stupid. 

She considered throwing them in the closet haphazardly.

The old woman might help her to the point of cleaning her training clothes every day in addition to her regular duties, but she would kick Sayuriama’s back to The Land of Whirlpools if she left her clothes on the wood floor. For a fifty-year-old, she was pretty strong.

In a lingering fear of Tsunada’s fist, she picked up every piece and put it at the bottom of the woven laundry basket. She even went as far as to wipe the mud off the floor.

Rising she moved to her vanity, an expensive wooden table gifted by her brothers when she arrived. Few women could boast of possessing such a finely polished mirror in the Land of Fire. She ignored it most days, but at night Tsunada had water and a rag waiting

She scrubbed herself down, finally taking off the slip to reveal skin that healed perfectly. One nice thing about being a member of the Senju clan was she did heal well from even really nasty cuts, hardly getting ill. 

Cleaning them as best she could she then went to the closet, reaching for the top shelf that contained more underclothes. Grumbling she wondered why she had put it in such an inconvenient place, promised she would switch it. But she was out of luck again as there was no clean pair, remembering that laundry was usually done the next day. She hesitantly put back on the sweaty undergarments putting them first into the water to wring them out.

Failing to get the dirt out she gave up. No amount of uneasy feeling was going to get it better, but tomorrow she had clean clothes and no pressing appointments with either brother. She would finally live up to her title and sleep in.

She could easily explain away the wetness of her robe because tonight the heat was horrendous, but for good measure, she pulled on a yukata. If nothing else they hid the cuts she had carelessly caused over the nights, especially when Hashirama decided he wanted to go on an early morning walk and showcase his work to her.

A warm glow hit her screened window, a mellow light filtering in the room. Getting clean had taken longer than she thought. Her room was giving off the golden radiance of the sunrise, the wood reflecting the luminosity splendidly. Small bonsai plants from Hashirama were scattered on the sill, a smile finally coming to her lips. 

Hashirama could be quite crazy when it came to his pet project, planting bonsai in as many random places in his village as possible. 

It was a serene moment that gave her peace. She had always liked watching the sunrise, but The Land of Whirlpools had more gray mornings than gold. Tying the white cotton belt around her slender waist she knelt by her bed, airing it out once to make sure no bugs had entered. Finding it clear she slid in and stretched out. 

Using a pearly hand, complete with perfectly cut nails, she grabbed the leather tie that had been holding her hair and pulled it out. Her copious amounts of hair fell down her shoulders, shining and spreading gracefully over the pillow. 

She had finally accomplished something new tonight, and could now sleep in peace. Something she wouldn’t have done had she’d stayed in her room. Those midnight visitors would never know they were singing to an empty room.

She grabbed the cotton covers, pulling their warmth around her. It was probably a little too hot, even in the early morning, for using covers but it had become a habit back in the land of Whirlpools. It was a lot colder there.

Fortunately, the cloth used here was breezy, and with some small adjustments to let her feet out, the temperature was perfect. The cotton pillow molded to her face, a little stiffer than the feather one she had used when staying in Uzushiogakure, but the cotton managed to fare better. If they got dirty they were much easier to clean, and Tsunada didn’t have to switch the covers often.

She didn’t doubt her brothers would give her anything she wanted, but it was empty. The Senju clan did have the money to buy the best, but they were currently using quite a chunk of it to create the Ninja village. The village was quite a revolutionary idea. Instead of the wealthy benefactors paying clans, all they would have to do is support a village that would protect their entire country. Sayuriama did think it was amazing what her brother was doing, but the Fire Daimyo was being quite the devil about it. That’s what she heard anyhow. She knew that they had high hopes for the last person they sent to convince him.

Sayuriama closed her eyes, the thick lashes resting on her cheeks. She sighed before falling into the limbo between sleep and awake and drifted into the dark.

The screen door slammed open and Sayuriama jumped up, almost squealing in fright. 

Tobirama smiled at his little sister, obviously thinking she was just waking from a long night of sleep. His expression was one she was getting to know- an irritated look. What on earth had she done to irritate him _now_? Did he discover she was stealing his kunai? There was no way, not yet.

Regardless she yelled. “Tobi! Really? What the h-”

“Language, Sayuri!” He said bounding into her room, taking large steps till he reached her. “I’m so glad to see you have gotten your beauty sleep.” He looked down, raising an eyebrow. She must have had the beginnings of faint dark shadows under her eyes. She _was_ still human.

“Sayuriama, _Tobi._ ” She glared, then lay back down pulling her covers over her. 

What was her brother doing in her room at the crack of dawn? Even more, why was he smirking in that creepy manner he had when he was trying to hide his irritation. He looked a little insane. He was wearing his metal forehead protector (Had he ever taken it off?) and his white hair looked as if it was on some sort of drug the way it was whacking out. He was in his night robe and his white hairy legs were sticking out. She shivered at the thought. Male legs should not be so casual.

“Ninja Art: Blanket-No-Jutsu. Now I’m not here. Leave Tobi.” Sayuriama muffled voice came from beneath the fabric, giving her brother the insulting, shortened form of his name. She attempted to make her voice threatening, but it more came out in a tender squeak. She remembered why she hated mornings. She was not in the mood.

Neither was Tobirama. 

He just hid it behind that cold smile reserved for moments like this. He stepped over to the bed and in a swift motion stripped her of her protective guise. She gasped at getting flipped out of the blanket, and again when he hoisted her to her feet. His speed was insane, and she was on the cold floor standing her bare feet in a matter of moments.

I’m even bad at fake ninjutsu, she thought correctly.

As Tobirama heaved his sister up he noticed scraps on her arms and legs. Her underclothes looked sticky and there was dirt on the fabric also. Sayuriama attempted to wrench away from her brother, scrambling away in a comedic fashion.

“Sayuriama, _why_ do these look fresh?” He hoisted up a leg much to her dismay and she slipped. He grabbed her and held her in balance while inspecting the cut. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the mud.”

“I accidentally fell into a bush yesterday. They probably opened when you grabbed me!” She lied smoothly, attempting to her arm and leg free. “Let GO Tobirama!” The said man’s dark eyebrows rose and were almost covered by the ever-existent metal plate on his forehead. She looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re very unbalanced.” He said, shrugging, not really buying the story, but not letting go of her appendages. He looked at the cut on her leg again. “Let’s put some medicine on it.”

“Let Tsunada do it and you can leave to do whatever you’re up so early for!” Sayuriama managed to free her arm. She gestured, waving him away. “Come to think of it, Tobirama, what did you wake me up for? I thought we had a free morning!” He smiled again, that cold smile. The marks on his face seemed to grow, and for a moment she wondered if it hurt when he got them. She forgot her question as he finally released her leg, apparently excited about the news. He loved being the one telling the story.

“The... the men we sent to the Fire Daimyo just got back, about two hours ago. We’re meeting them as soon as possible.” She could almost see his satisfaction. “Hashirama asked you to come.” He looked as if he would disagree with the elder brother wholeheartedly.

“That’s nice,” She replied coolly, “But it has nothing to do with me.” Tobirama stopped cold. He then looked her straight in the face, appraising her. For some reason she was dirty.

“Hashirama specifically requested it.” Sayuriama groaned. Was she supposed to stun the poor ambassadors with her beauty? 

“I’m tired. Find another sister.” She reached down to grab the blanket that had been so rudely thrown to the floor. Tobirama grabbed it first and pulled it out of reach.

“I think not, _princess_.” She looked up.

“I am not a princess!”

His smirk got bigger.

“What’s the big deal?” She noticed in horror he had that smile on. The face he got whenever he was about to do something really nasty, that would make him win their argument. Granted, he didn’t get to use it often when in a verbal dialogue with Sayuriama and her tongue, but she had learned to run when he had it. 

She then regarded his crossed arms, a single finger lifted in retaliation. She recognized the simplified hand sign of her brother and looked in horror.

“You wouldn’t DARE.” She hissed. He smiled.

“You are rather dirty, maybe this will wake you up. It’s like killing two enemies with one hand sign.”

“I’m wearing white!” She said, hoping to escape. Her worst fear was realized as he tossed her the blanket that had fallen to the floor, and resumed the hand sign. He put his hand out in front of him then drew them back sharply, clapping.

“Water Release: Water Shockwave!”

Sayuriama managed to call her brother a very rude name before the virtual wall of water hit her full on. She then screamed.

Water release was usually a technique used for offense and one that ninja brothers didn’t often use on their younger sisters. Tobirama and Sayuri weren't ordinary siblings. They were Senju.

It was a testament to Tobirama’s skill as a ninja that he was able to perform such a syncopated hand skill, and even more so that he was using it as a bath for his little sister.

Tsunada, the deeply respected guard of Sayuri, was standing at the door, noticing the skill that Tobirama was utilizing the Jutsu, cracking up as he did so. His voice wasn’t as deep as Hashirama’s wise one, but it held the same confidence, and maybe a bit more of a mischievous will. Sayuriama was holding onto the blanket as the Jutsu circled her. It was much smaller than his real attack but almost as vicious.

Tobirama was holding his hands crossed contently, keeping the Jutsu up. He looked almost too happy. Tsunada stepped in, holding a fresh pair of underwear in her arms. Tobirama acknowledged her with a nod, smirking.

“You’re up early Tsunada.” She nodded, agreeing.

Sayuriama, seeing her, screamed for help between several face-fulls of water. “Tsu-“ Water. “na-“ Water. Screw the name. “HEL-“ Water in the face.

“I heard the yelling. I could say the same to you Lord Tobirama.” She said calmly, looking at the scene.

“I’ve actually been up all night.”

“A common thing here, I’m afraid. But not necessarily her fault.” Tobirama slightly grinned at the crafty old woman. As he looked over at his sister, the powerful jutsu did seem a little unfair.

“She is clean, I suppose.” He said a little dramatically, releasing his Jutsu. He then moved to the window, tossing the curtains aside, and opened it. Performing another hand sign the water on the floor where the Jutsu was raised and went out. As if on a second the thought, the water on Sayuriama followed.

She sat on the floor, damp, a little disorientated.

Tsunada looked at Tobirama, thinking that she was seeing the only man who used Ninjutsu to bathe his sister. Then she watched as he went over to Sayuri and gently lifted her, blanket and all. She hadn’t been knocked around all that bad, but she was pretty mad.

She directed a surprisingly well-aimed fist into his firm chest, which Tobirama took, but smiled. He then grabbed the wet girl in a hug, kissed her sopping forehead, and walked to Tsunada. He gave her the update of the morning, and she nodded. He then left waving goodbye over his shoulder, going to dress.

“I hate you both.” Sayuriama glared at the older woman who was staring after Tobirama’s back. She turned back, smirking.

“You’re the spoiled girl who deserved it. Hm.”

“Did you SEE what he did to me! That was abuse!” Tsunada went over to Sayuriama who had sat on the bed. She put her arms on the girl’s shoulders, and Sayuriama Sayuriama began to warm up. Tsunada had an affinity towards fire chakra so it was really no surprise she was so warm. She had the ability to pass body heat to people. “Thanks, but I’m still angry.”

“Let’s get you ready.”

“I guess now that I’m awake.”

Tsunada and Sayuriama rushed down the wooden walkways of the Senju compound twenty minutes later. They had a few more tiffs about what to wear but Tsunada won out, as she always did when it came to clothes. She was wearing a gorgeous blue kimono, a traditional Senju tree pattern. Her obi, the long sash of whites and yellow was tied in a firm at her back, forming a tight bow. Her long smooth hair had been put up in a simple style, flower ornaments placed with care.

After the last touches, socks and house sandals, they left.

They were silent as they passed the family sleeping quarters where the Senju cousins were, but as they got closer to the main house Sayuriama turned to Tsunada. She had lifted the kimono slightly, trading modesty for ease. She did tend to trip in the shoes and was often shoeless for an easier commute. Not today. With all this preparation, it was clear Hashirama wanted to impress. 

“Who are these ambassadors?” Tsunada looked hesitantly at her. If Sayuriama was getting dressed up like a doll this early she deserved an answer. She had been pretty good about not falling asleep again.

“One was your uncle Hotaka.” Sayuriama nodded. It made sense that she hadn’t seen him, though they had been friends in her youth. There were so many people she had to remember these past few days; not even mentioning the new people and clans. The few weeks she had been here had been a blur.

“I was wondering where he was. I miss his quips. Who was the other unlucky fellow?” Sayuriama grinned, and Tsunada snickered, then covered her mouth with her kimono as if improper.

It was well known Hotaka Senju was an excellent negotiator, but more notoriously, that he was also a nostalgic pervert. Especially when it came to reminiscing about his dead wife. Half of what Sayuriama knew was from listening to her old uncle in her youth. He had been a sort of patron to her cheekiness.

“It is rather unusual.”Tsunada paused, clearly considering something, but finally turned to her again. She conspiratorially leaned in as if to tell a scary story under her breath. “The other fellow, as you put it, was the Uchiha Clan leader.” 

Tsunada paused, tugging as Sayuriama’s stopped form. Not many names could make Sayuriama Senju pause, but this one did. 

“The Uchiha Clan Leader, as in... _Madara_ Uchiha?” Her voice was dark.

The man that caused every Senju child shiver in fear. 

What Senju didn’t feel some sort of anger towards them? Her brothers, Itama and Kawarama had died as children in the battle against his clan many years ago, but she along with most of her clan held the Uchiha clan in special distaste. 

She didn’t know the man personally, but the whisperings of him among the Senju and Uzumaki clan were plenty of information for her to digest. He had a resume: The Uchiha that single-handedly brought his clan from a dwindling line to one of the few that had been able to spar the Senju Clan, a fearless shinobi that could stand on equal grounds as her elder brother. The ninja who Tobirama hated fiercely without equal. 

Now, she could form her own opinion. 

It only made sense, but she couldn’t help feel a twinge of fear at the Uchiha name. 

But still, this was a rare opportunity to exact revenge for her brothers in the only way she possibly could. Why else should Hashirama ask her to come when he wanted her to charm this enemy for some reason?

She would take this chance to snub this Uchiha Clan Leader. 

How could she not take this moment to let him know just _what_ the Senju thought of him? An act of mild revenge, but the best she could do. 

It would be too fun. 

She narrowed her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. Tsunada nodded. 

“The very same. I’m sure you’re more than knowledgeable about the Uchiha. You have strange fascinations for things you have no business in.” Tsunade already knew Sayuriama was troublesome when it came to intrigue and things that generally should be unspoken.

“Uh, Tsunade! You assume too much. I am too little a girl to be of notice.” 

“I would be grateful if that logic could last through the night. We’re all very tired of these singing boys.”

“It would be rude if I told them to leave.” Sayuriama put her hand to her mouth, aware of her silliness. “I’m sure Madara would be angry if I was so rude.”

“Little brat. You will call him _Lord_ Uchiha when you meet him, and you will certainly not be so crass as to speak to him. Lord Hashirama has a very high opinion of him, and would be displeased if he was vexed.”

“So am I to at least meet _Lord Uchiha_?” The name sounded exotic on her tongue and a little dangerous. The girl subconsciously pulled her lovely robes around her, her cheeks a bit red at the cool morning air. “The same Lord Madara that has hated the Senju for generations.”

Tsunada frowned.

“If he deems it worth his time. He might make us wait- You never quite know with him. And you will _not_ vex him. We need to put the past behind us. ”

Sayuriama smiled delicately. “Of course not. It’s not like the Uchiha have ever vexed a Senju.” Tsunada frowned. 

“We need to put old anger behind us if this village is to work. You must be an example.” Tsunada said. “We have killed many of them as well.”

Sayuriama stopped for just a moment.

“I suppose.” Her face wasn’t convinced. 

The two entered the Senju meeting house, erected with thick wooden pillars and an elegant tiled roof. It had been painted in the usual Senju colors, emblems gleaming on lacquered wood. The Senju symbol gleamed in the night. Sliding doors lined the walls, a multitude of rooms of many family members, as well as the various people employed. Hashirama had hired many in need. 

The few in the room recognized them, nodded slightly, as if with little interest. Young guards let their eyes follow Sayuriama until she had passed, leaving the flowery scent of her perfumes to grace their imaginations.

It was a quiet place, this early. Sayuriama matched her voice to the mood, keeping it low.

“So why have I been summoned? To complement the tea or seduce the Uchiha?” Tsunada hit her on the head. “Ow!”

“No silliness. And it’s LORD Uchiha. Be polite.” Sayuriama chuckled and bit her lip, eyebrows raising. “But only Lord Hashirama would know the real reason for that.” 

“Old Hag. That hurt- Don’t bother giving me your airs. I know that _you_ know every intrigue. Hashirama is no fool when it comes to his minions.”

“Yes.” 

Sayuriama rubbed her head and Tsunade had to swat at her again to make sure all the work she had done was not ruined.

“Stop it!”

“Stop ruining my work. It’s perfection!”

“Tell me! Your gossip is the only perfect thing in this house.” Tsunada smirked, not denying the statement. She did just happen to occasionally _hear_ things. She said it wasn’t really gossip, but more making sure things ran smoothly.

“I suppose your brother wants to show Madara he trusts and respects him. How better to do so than to formally introduce his beautiful, intelligent, sister to him? You have not been formally introduced to many people.”

“It’s Hashirama’s fault I don’t get out more often.” She said, feeling dejected. She had very much wanted to go to the play the other night and had watched from afar as other people had passed to go. But, her brothers always seemed to have some sort of trick up his sleeve. Hashirama was much more cunning than he let on. 

“Quiet. We’re getting close.” 

Sayuriama nodded mindlessly, hearing the whisper voices to the front of them, in the cozy personal room at the end of the hall. They were behind the screen, and the murmur of voices slipped through the tatami-covered doors. 

How would she insult the Uchiha? She would have to do so in a way that was so formal and engaging that he might not even _know_ she was slowly removing his confidence. After all, men usually never considered _her_ capable of intelligent reasoning enough to influence their thoughts. 

She was just about to slide open the screen door when he spoke, and she was glad she had not. It caught her off her guard, and her knees trembled a bit. But It was this last voice that really caught her attention.

Sayuriama didn’t think that she was capable of being charmed. She, by far, had the most enticing voice she knew off. She had once charmed a kidnapper so well with her voice, he didn’t notice a group of Whirlpool Shinobi walk behind him and hit him over the head. 

They found her looking rather bored, reciting the edict of some past general.

But as she got closer to identifying people, she was surprised that maybe there was someone who had enough of a voice to intrigue even her. 

Hashirama had his reassuring voice, even and calm. He wasn’t the most talented conversationalist, but he had this way of making you feel comfortable and agreeable. Even after ten years that hadn’t changed, and she still felt safe hearing it. She could also hear Mito. If she hadn’t known better, she would have guessed they were already married, the way Mito’s voice seemed to accent Hashirama’s in the most perfect way. They both had great charisma. Tobirama's voice was slightly lower than Hashirama's, but it still held that Senju's confidence. And if she had to guess, he was not a little too happy. Normally he seemed to be sober and held that tone of strength and passion. He wasn’t quite as calming, but he did have a pull to him. Power. Even Uncle Hotaka had a distinct style, though less elegant. 

At the sound of the voice, her thoughts paused. 

_“It wasn’t as successful as I hoped, but I do think we managed to make him consider that the repercussions of not deciding to give us his support wouldn’t be very good.”_

It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from her lungs. Her expression went from confident tease to white chalk. 

Tsunada turned to the girl and was caught off guard by her expression, the hand stopped cold. 

The sound of rushing blood filled Sayuriama’s ears blocking all sound as the world shifted and became crisper. The steady beat of her own heart pounded in her head, sending signals to chill her spine and ready her for something akin to encountering something terrible. 

It wasn’t the exact words that caught her attention and would be forever engrained in her; It was the absoluteness of the voice. 

At first, it was a honeyed tone, full of convincing subtleties, but as she listened, it turned deeper than Tobirama’s, husky, and full of unspoken secrets.

She knew it would be hard to convince herself that something like heat could shoot through her because of a voice, but here it was. So assured of its own ability to create poetry where none was meant, and she knew that if the man matched, she would be in trouble. This voice had the ability to make her _feel._

There was really only one way to describe the voice. The way she had never had cause to say about anyone, much less a voice. Sybaritic. She listened with a hedonistic pleasure to the voluptuous, amative man. He would not be controlled, nor could she so simply embarrass him. 

She realized that she might be a vestal maiden on the brink of discovery. Sayuriama had long scorned feelings of love as she had been told she was their cause by so many men. An aching memory in the back of her head threatened to come forward but she refused to let it taint the moment. 

She looked to her raised hand, shaking. She indeed was as austere in her romantic feelings as an unplucked flower. She felt the urge to learn just what in him made her seem so... so restrained. It would be like flying. Would his image match the voice? Or would she forever be disappointed by walking through this door?

She chided herself for the poetic feelings that made no sense. What was she doing, giving up her crusade to wound the man so easily? 

  
  


Tsunada had looked on in surprise, wondering just what the silly girl was up to. A little listening at doors was not unusual to gauge the situation, but Sayuriama had seemed fixed in thought. 

She reached out, putting a hand to the girl's forehead.

Sayuriama pushed it away, breaking from the trance. Feeling her heart settle its indecision she turned to Tsunada, taking on a cheeky look.

“Are you well?” Tsunada said quietly, taking care not to be heard. Sayuriama lifted a hand to open the door, taking a moment. Tsunada noted the quick hard tremor and frowned. She moved to leave, but Sayuriama shook her head.

“I’m... _beautiful_.” 

Then she slid open the door, all smiles. 


	4. Scroll 4

When Madara woke, it was much to his own surprise, was feeling better. He no longer felt an edge to his temper _._ Which was a great relief to many Uchiha, since nothing good came out of Madara’s temper. 

Hayo, the _assistant_ the clan seniors encouraged him to take under his wing to do his menial work, had dared come and wake him. Barely a man, one of the young ones he was supposed to help train up. Hayo had accepted without a second thought. It spoke badly about the question of his head, but well about his loyalty. Madara had let him stay because when it came to loyalty with no questions asked, Hayo was as good as it got at this point. Even if he was a little naive to be truly effective. 

He would have preferred Setsuna infinitely more, but the man had duties that were actually important.

He supposed he was being harsh on the boy. No one could match Izuna in wit or his ability to be his second. But time must go on, and he had to figure out how to lead the Uchiha here and now.

Hayo jauntily raised a hand, bowing deeply, and was far too well rested. Madara decided that he might as well get the damn meeting over with, and trying to be kind, resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Wait here.” 

Hayo nodded, standing outside the main clan rooms that Madara resided in. Far too large, mostly empty and gaining cobwebs, but _his._

Madara re-entered his quarters, dressing. High collared shirt, black pants, and durable sandals; nothing fancy. He didn’t have a mirror, so ran his long fingers through his hair, not thinking much about the black mane. His hair had grown wild, longer than most women’s, and he refused to think too hard about it.

Nor did he bother with any of the more elaborate weapons on his stand, knowing they’d be more of a hassle than help. Strapping more than a few kunai on would be more than sufficient. No more were the days of prowling, needing to be fully armed at every moment. 

_All that training is wasted here, brother._

That was the thought that almost derailed the morning meeting. He nearly threw the table as his darker thoughts once again consumed him. The world as he knew- the one he loved- it was disappearing. The control he had seemed to be slipping away.

 _It’s all lies. None of it’s real._

The thought stuck with him, like a pile of goo, as he headed to the exit of his rooms. Thankfully his attention finally diverted as he walked through the near-complete compound, eyes lingering on the clan members already up and working. Here was a good reason to stay. There were still a few tents but most of the Uchiha Clan were housed in real structures, the building planned to end at the end of the month. Stability, children playing easily in safe places, plenty of food. He just needed to _remember._

Hayo followed him when he passed.

It made him feel mildly better, seeing the few clan members bow in deference to him, and he nodded back respectfully. They seemed to still _like_ him. Mostly. He had listened to the clan and brought them here to safety. Their fathers, husbands, and children would no longer be fodder on the battlefield.

His discontent still bubbled dangerously near.

_How long can you last until it all goes up in flames, elder brother?_

The Clan Leader gave a magnificent snarl, scaring off several children. The usual sentry at the gate bowed deeply at him and shivered when he passed. Hayo struggled to keep up.

“Boy, don’t make me wait.” He said sharply, making Hayo jump and refocus on walking behind Madara. 

“Sorry, Clan Leader.” 

“Hmph.” 

The boy nodded respectfully, dark ash hair falling over his pale face, not surprised at the curt correction. The kid was more handsome than the typical Uchiha youth, but his subordinate had somehow managed to surprise even him. 

Hayo, for some unknown reason, was dressed in what was an absurdly nice black silk kimono. It was embroidered with the Uchiha Crest in reds and whites, and he looked more like a kid in his father’s nicest robes than Madara's second. The poorly-concealed tapping of his fingers didn’t hide the fact that Hayo clearly was like one as well.

Madara even caught a whiff of something musky, making him raise a sarcastic brow. He shook the question away, deciding it wasn’t worth the brainpower.

Don't do it, he thought, knowing he was going to ask. Eventually.

Madara gave something between a sneer and a resigned sigh of exasperation when he gave up.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Hayo followed as Madara exited the tall wooden gate that separated them from the city. Hayo struggled to keep up with Madara’s long legs in his kimono, which Hayo knew was on purpose. Madara was giving him a different sort of punishment.

Madara knew Hayo couldn’t see his smirk, but he likely could feel it. 

But the smile wasn’t just for his ridiculous puppy. Madara retained great pride in seeing the Uchiha crest blazed brightly on many shops and residences. It was something he lost as they wove further into a more tangled, chaotic menagerie of tents. Other clans didn’t have the attention to order the Uchiha did. They were much wilder in their design, a mismatch of less powerful clans merging into The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

But still, there was a fine line, and he wondered if this continued if the Uchiha would lose the sense of themselves. He tried not to let Izuna’s voice come to him. 

_Betrayer, brother mine. Look how the Senju have let weaklings run wild. And how you stood by and let them._

He focused away, turning to the brisk morning. It would soon be hot, full of people, and madness, but now the morning was his. He put his hands behind his head, and took a deep breath in, for once, letting the wind carry his guilt off for a while. There was no reason to ruin a morning like this. 

The sun inched its way over Hashirama’s giant wall, hitting his wild onyx hair.

\--X--

Hayo looked at the steady clan leader, walking a straight course in front of him. He seemed much more relaxed, more open than Hayo had seen in months. The Clan Leader was much taller than most of the men, and quite the imposing figure, even in his simple outfit. He seemed to fill the empty streets with his presence. He was a man who had the charisma to lead men when he was younger- a worthy man to follow, to die for. Hayo, like many other young Uchiha men, had wanted the attention of their Lord, his praise and trust. 

Which was one of the reasons he begged for this position. He still looked up to him.

He looked over Madara with red eyes, taking in the calm state of his chakra. He needed to take a risk at some point, but also would rather not be dismissed or demeaned. He wasn’t sure about Madara’s mood, but he would likely be more furious at any surprises Hashirama would spring on him, especially ones that Hayo already knew of.

“Clan Leader.” Madara slowed his grueling pace slightly, and Hayo caught up, standing side by side. This was as clear an indication he would get to talk. Madara didn’t bother to turn his head.

“There is one matter, a detail, that is likely to come up.” He said with a confidence he wasn’t feeling.

Madara tilted his head, shoulders straightening- a bad sign. 

“A detail, boy? I hope it’s not important.” Hayo’s insides shrunk at the menacing tone. Madara’s grumbles were a good indication of how this would end. So he wasn’t in the mood to entertain fools, but he hadn’t thrown Hayo into a building yet. Not that he regularly threw clan members outside of training, but it had happened.

“Well, it’s more of -” Madara cut in, and Hayo didn’t even try to imagine what sort of death was in store for him.

“Was I supposed to bring a written report? Or formal wear?” The sarcasm was noted. Hayo shook his head quickly, very embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to out-do Madara. Madara didn’t stand for people who outdid him, and there were only a few who lived to tell the tale. Hayo admired the Senju brothers all the more for their courage to face Madara Uchiha in battle.

“No, no, my lord, I am dressed so that, well-” Madara rolled his eyes. His thoughts were clear, that he should finally choose a second-in-command and finally get rid of this one. 

“Don’t waste my time.” 

Hayo sighed at the curt voice.

“It was brought up that the attendant from the Land of Whirlpools would attend. They arrived just a few weeks ago, and-”

“Heh boy. This is trivial. We were expecting them a long time ago.” Madara would throw Hayo if that was it.

“And it is likely that Lord Hashirama ’s younger sister will be there,” Hayo added quickly, rubbing his kimono down nervously. At least it was out. 

At this, Madara decided that maybe Hayo was not quite as stupid as he previously assumed, because this was interesting information. 

He stopped fists clenching. 

“So, Hashirama Senju has a sister,” Madara stated before looking down at Hayo, who nodded and bowed in clear deference. “A sister.” He repeated.

“Yes, Clan Leader.”

Madara unclenched his hand and put it to his chin, turning this new report through his head as he scoured his brain for a time. Hashirama slipped or mentioned _anything_. Any reports, any whispers, anything to clue him into this information.

Nothing returned. A secret that the Senju Clan itself was so tight-fisted on that before this moment, he had heard nothing about her. The image of a woman-Hashirama came to his head, a disgusting thing. Or maybe a stern-looking chit with wild white hair. 

Absurd, but at this point, of little consequence.

And so Hashirama had yet another card up his sleeve. As brainless as the man tended to come off as Madara knew Hashirama was no fool. A sister so well hid that not even he knew of her? The Uchiha intel during the war had been better than the Senju’s, yet he had no notion of her. A sibling hidden away from war meant that sibling was likely a poor, or heaven forbid, _useless_ Shinobi. 

Now that would be interesting. The Senju women were fierce and plentiful, unlike the Uchiha clan who didn’t let their women fight, and had no reason to hide. It was certainly strange that Hashirama would produce a sibling now.

Hayo chimed in, clearly feeling a little more confident.

“I believe he wants to show you his trust.” 

Madara raised his chin, a mocking smile. “Any Senju woman is likely a snake to the Uchiha, even a Senju princess.” Hayo must not have registered his words. 

“Yes, It’s an honor, he hardly introdu-” Hayo continued, but Madara was once again in his thoughts.

The annoying Uzumaki clan could be turned to his advantage. There was some talk of Hashirama being interested in taking an Uzumaki bride. Perhaps this sister could be another small chink in the political armor Tobirama Senju was so carefully vested in. 

Madara, rather darkly, mused what it would be like to make Tobirama feel what losing a sibling was like before returning to his newest factional machinations.

The Land of Whirlpool’s held many ties to the Senju and had been one of the first to copy the Hidden Village System. They had actually managed to gain support from several feudal lords, securing funding and trade. 

He needed more information before he could plan his next move.

“So tell me about the girl. This _mysterious_ sister. I wasn’t aware there were more Senju siblings.” The words he inferred were clear to Hayo, thick with disdain. It bothered him.

“She just arrived with the envoy from the Uzumaki clan. It’s clear that she and the Uzumaki woman are close.” Madara’s frown deepened. 

“The Senju are allied with many weak clans.”

“Is her presence a problem, Lord Madara?” Hayo asked as passively as he could. Madara put his arms to his side, undoing the wrinkling of his dark shirt. The wind blew gently on his deceptively placid face.

“I suppose not. It will have to do on such short notice, and I'm sure the Senju will explain.” 

They continued in silence, weaving through the city until they reached the compound on the other large corner. The Senju gate guards immediately recognized Madara, looking a bit nervous. He didn’t change expressions, letting them lead him to one of many meeting rooms in the large building Hashirama resided. The hallways were still dark, the sun not reaching to hit the large screen walkways. 

The guard opened a door, letting them pass into a room of excellent quality. Madara narrowed his eyes in the empty room.

Snorting in disgust he sat down onto one of the formal cushions that lined the rich mahogany table, letting his long legs crossed in front of him. He very much would have liked to have kicked his feet up on the wood and taken a nap at the Senju’s expense. Hayo sat next to him, taking care not to wrinkle his outfit. He checked his reflection looking into the shiny tabletop. 

Quick, a male servant brought them both tea, placing Madara’s first. Hayo didn’t really notice when his drink was placed and forgot to thank the man. Madara raised an eyebrow, put off by Hayo’s vanity. Madara never thanked servants, it is a ritual that the subordinate did. He set his tea down after the servant left.

“What are you doing boy.” Hayo looked up wide-eyed from the well-waxed table to his superior. He felt sweat build at the base of his neck, knowing that he was only a few stumbles away from having his face shoved through a wall. 

“Clan Leader?” 

Madara breathed in slowly and put his elbows to rest flatly on the table, chin on top of his interlaced fingers. His index finger was barely touching his chin, but it was tapping ominously.

“Why did you dress up like a _peacock_ , and why do you _keep examining yourself_ like your face is going to change in the next ten seconds?” He said slowly, trying to control himself. Hayo went bright red looking down at his apparel.

“I… and, I just think that this sort of meeting requires a more formal-”

“I remember receiving a report that you complained for over an hour to Akinobu about wearing formal clothes for meetings,” Madara growled.

Hayo stuttered, trying to not make the situation worse. Finally, as if giving up, he sighed. In a low whisper, he muttered something.

Madara narrowed his eyes. He had heard, but he wasn’t going to let this slip so easily. “Heh, you’re whispering like a girl. Louder.” He pulled up one of his hands and put it to his forehead, feeling as if a headache was coming from Hayo’s stupidity.

“I wish to impress. The Senju sister.” Hayo then put his face down in shame. Madara put down his hand and turned to look full on at his younger counterpart. When he realized he was being truthful, things clicked into place.

“You’re trying to impress a _Senju_ woman?” Madara said, quite appalled. 

As a handsome youth, Hayo never had any problem attracting girls from various clans. Madara snorted at Hayo’s ridiculousness. 

“Yes, Lord Madara.”

“Would she be coming here, _because it was suggested by us_?”

Hayo went red. “I… No sir. Of course not.”

“But you… _agreed_. Why would you feel a girl was necessary at a diplomatic meeting?” Hayo looked up at Madara, almost like he was going to tell him something that Madara wouldn’t comprehend. 

“...” 

Madara sneered.

“I can’t wait to hear the changes that were made since I left. With men like you, I’m sure the Uchiha would gladly forfeit all of our priorities.” 

Hayo winced and was prepared for another one of Madara’s berating speeches when the door slid open to reveal a grinning Hashirama. Behind him was a lovely red-haired woman, doubtless the Uzumaki emissary.

“Madara, my friend.”

“Hashirama.”

Madara noted that his mysterious sister did not accompany him and that Tobirama was late. Unfortunately, it seems that the old uncle was here, all waggling eyebrows. Madara's eyebrow twitched.

\--X--

Hashirama looked over the room and smiled. Madara was obviously on his last nerve, and that made him feel better. 

They should spar sometime soon.

He escorted Mito to a cushion, then walked to sit across Madara. He stretched out his hand. Madara took it hesitatingly and they both shook, exchanging greetings.

Hashirama was also dressed simply, comfortable in his wear.

His eyes widened when he looked over at Hayo. There was no reason for the poor boy to dress so finely. But it wasn’t his concern, and he moved on. 

He introduced Mito Uzumaki, and despite her polite manner, she was clearly wary of the Uchiha’s. She was also more formally vested in her kimono, and Hayo Uchiha looked a little less awkward. Hashirama, being ever polite, commented on how well he looked when the door opened again.

By the time Tobirama came in, frown and all, he looked long-suffering. He took the seat next to Hayo, who looked startled. He coldly nodded towards the Uchiha party leaving the left seat across from him, who cooly returned a nod. 

Hashirama remained jovial. “I’m afraid I’ve caused you trouble. I think my message was too early for both of us.” Madara nodded slowly but gave the typical answer.

“Always too eager, Hashirama,” Madara agreed, sending the elder Senju into a depression before he shook it off. “But I have news.”

“Thank you, Madara. We could not do this without you.” It was a genuine compliment that made both Uchiha uncomfortable. 

“Of course. It’s nothing for an Uchiha.” He said, pushing his wild hair over his shoulder. The servant returned, bearing more steaming hot tea. The group began discussing Madara’s journey. 

It was as Madara had expected. His report of a stubborn Lord, Hashirama's overly optimistic assurance that all would be well, and growing irritation with how pointless it had turned out so far from the entire group. Then, the door opened. Madara turned, anticipation peaked. He looked over, to solve the curious puzzle of this Senju girl that had so charmed Hayo. 

But alas, it wasn’t her. 

The old Uncle Senju had come, accompanied by a stab of disgust in Madara’s abdomen. To his dismay, he sat next to him at the head of the table, giving a clueless, jovial pat on the Madara’s back, which was returned with a sinister look. 

“Off me old man.” He growled.

“Don’t be like that!” 

Madara swore he saw a smirk on Tobirama’s face.

Hashirama looked at his Uncle Hotaka, smiling at the old man’s straightforwardness. He seemed to have brought more enthusiasm to the group even if tension radiated from Madara’s gaze.

The old man's report was the same as his. Much to Madara’s amusement, Hashirama quickly asked him what would be the best next step. 

He was enjoying discussing the audacity of the Daimyo with a rapt audience, strategizing the pieces of a plan. Having control of the room pleased him. He especially was satisfied when he looked over at Hayo, who hadn’t said a word, and saw him twiddling his thumbs. 

No sister had graced them. 

Madara turned back to answer Hashirama's questions.

“It wasn’t as successful as I hoped, but I do think we managed to make him consider that the _repercussions_ of not deciding to give us his support wouldn’t be very good,” Madara added a darker tone than he usually would, but he wanted Hashirama to know that he had control of this matter.

The door once again opened, and Madara didn’t bother turning. He expected a refill of tea from a servant but was surprised to see the room go silent as a feminine slipper tapped the ground.

Hashirama nodded the person in.

“ _Sayuriama_. You’re late.”

Ah, the sister. A test was in order- _The ‘Hayo’ test_. Was the Senju sister worth getting dressed up for? Surely not, if she was related to Hashirama. 

“ _Hashirama_.” Her tone made it clear she had plenty of pride, that her brothers were indulgent to her. As a favor to Hashirama, he would teach her to know her place among the table- at the bottom.

His face turned, dusky eyes ready to teach Hayo an unsaid lesson. 

.

.

He felt an instantaneous shock go through him.

It was very clear to Madara just why the brat had wanted his sister there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/4/20
> 
> I’m working on updating this, but it needs some edits still.


	5. Scroll 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F---------
> 
> So I'm working on editing the faster I can since I don't want to spew out garbage and mistakes as I used to, but it might take longer than expected. I mean, there were some sus things that needed clarifying here.

“Forgive me,  _ Hashirama _ . You ought to know that we women are mere fickle creatures and that I simply couldn't decide on a kimono.” Sayuriama hoped this sounded as pretentiously silly as she didn’t feel, raising her hand as if to examine her nails. She needed time to gauge the situation and think tactics, as she had been thrown by the voice before even entering the door. 

But she had barely said this when she received the answer she  _ needed,  _ one that she couldn’t live without _ ; _ Just  _ who _ was this man?

_ Did this voice really belong to a Senju clan hater, the murderer of her kin?  _

Madara Uchiha.

The name generally caused much hissing in the ranks of the Senju, murmurs of fear and anger. Her brothers turned taciturn at the allusion.

Hashirama, admittedly singular in temperament and view, had once called him a good man under a veneer of prejudice. He had always seemed to have something of a soft spot for the Uchiha Clan Leader, as Tobirama passingly mentioned to her last week on a walk with a sneer. He advised her to keep her distance, and it was perhaps the one thing she easily agreed on.

She quickly gazed over her family, ignoring Hashirama’s fading grin. The look that passed between them was brief but full of meaning.

_ Be kind, Sayuri. _

_ You can dream, Hashirama. _

Ah, he could tell she was in fine form already. She skipped the rest of her family to rudely stare down the Uchiha guests (recognizable thanks to their unfamiliar inky black hair, pale skin, and sleek dark vestments), a half-sneer already forming.

It went well for the first one. The closest Uchiha, the one ornately decorated quite like herself, eagerly caught her gaze and visibly swooned. One shouldn't be quick to  _ judge  _ someone, especially ninja, but it was easy to see right through this boy. The only thing that surprised her was she had automatically assumed that the unpretentious one was the servant, decorum rules turning in her mind. It was disappointing enough to consider turning around and leaving, which she would have done except Hashirama would be  _ very  _ upset; While an angry Tobirama could be unpleasant, an upset Hashirama was terrifying. 

However, to her great astonishment, she then recognized the one in the egoist dress. He was one of those guards who she had almost convinced to let her on top of the wall the other day. She held his lovestruck gaze but softened her own.

Hamo Uchiha was it? She had almost convinced him, except Tobirama came looking for her. Despite being an Uchiha, he had been rather kind, and shy. The type of sorry welp who couldn’t help fall in love with her beauty. 

More importantly, that logically led to another solution. The simpler one was Madara Uchiha, and  _ perhaps _ the owner of the most enticing voice she had ever heard.

She needed to see his face, no matter how rude it seemed.

This Uchiha was clean and sleekly dressed in a subtle navy that verged on black. His mane of wild dark hair masking his profile, and he didn’t bother to turn, irritating her somewhat (He must not have heard, or believed in her reputation). With his long legs, she guessed he would be a good foot over her height, and the sight of the fabric wrapping around them made her chest feel rather tight, and her stomach a bit tingly. His long, tumbling hair that could almost rival her long mane brushed the wood floor, and she wondered why he didn’t bother to tame it.

She waited, letting the Uchiha turn so he could see her face. 

He did not move an inch, and it made her blood boil. How dare he. Did he not know that  _ she  _ was the one in charge here. So wrapped up in this blossoming fury, that she missed Hashirama’s worried glance and Tobirama’s furrowing brow. 

She had to shift  _ her _ position to see the other dark-haired ninja without craning her neck, something she’d  _ never  _ do, and so she masked her intent by moving behind Mito. 

And finally, she could see him and his infamous eyes. She didn’t hesitate to boldly match his gaze.

It was well known that the Uchiha Clan’s infamous closeness often meant the clan members could look too similar for outsiders to tell apart, their similar characteristics. But to say that Madara Uchiha looked like any other Uchiha would be a terribly misleading statement. 

He was…  _ sharp.  _

Like the tip of a kunai, every part of him seemed acute, whetted, and honed. And as she brazenly challenged him, he became even more menacing. His exquisitely shaped eyes, black as obsidian narrowed, causing her legs to weaken, and she kneeled into her spot to cover the lapse. Her soul burned at the glare, and embarrassment threatened to flood her cheeks with crimson. He was pure male, not an ounce of feminine softness on his entire body. 

She was fixed in his dark glare, the intensity that surprised her, looking irritated at being interrupted. One long eyebrow raised as if to dare her to continue to overtly stare at him. A man who loved having control of things, one who loathed insubordination. 

Once he had authority, it was over.

And to her own stupefaction… 

She looked away first.

Her mind cursed, but her body betrayed her, bowing as if it had finally found its superior. 

That Uchiha guard looked very slender, almost  _ pretty _ , compared with the sharp features of Madara Uchiha. There was a boy and a man here, and so had no doubt which was which. There was an absoluteness in this dark clan leader’s features, a deadliness that would make most people turn away. 

She furiously bit her lip, the silence of the moment stinging her. Not able to let such an insult pass, she forced her gaze to return, only to find that he had shifted away, looking to Hashirama.

Dark lips verging on a sneer, clearly a God of War among Shinobi. 

It was nothing like she had ever seen. 

_ “As I recall, we still have serious matters to discuss...” _ He drawled, that electric voice deepening to a most unnerving degree. And she could not stop the immediate realization. Madara Uchiha had not spared her a second look. 

It stung.

Not a nod, or any acknowledgment. No look of admiration. 

It made her feel meager, reprimanded by a man who saw himself as her superior. Most in the room had caught on to the wordless moment.

If there was a man who could really  _ not  _ give a damn, it was Madara Uchiha. 

Smoothly Mito poured Sayuriama tea, letting her divert her attention, and saving her from likely another faux pas with the Uchiha leader. The look Mito gave her let her know that her face was showing her thoughts, and she needed to regain her composure.

Unkle Hotaka gave a slight cough to cover his giggling, then turned back to the conversation as she scowled at him. For the first time, Sayuriama realized that her presence had not just mildly derailed the meeting, it had been  _ unwanted  _ by Madara Uchiha _.  _

She brought the cup up, staring down at the table to watch Hayo Uchiha’s vague reflection in the shining wood. He seemed perturbed and looking apologetically at her as if to assure her it wasn’t her fault. She lifted her gaze to the younger Uchiha, looking straight through him with her infamous gaze.

He flushed bright red, and she then knew it was no accident.

Madara Uchiha had purposefully jilted her.

How she had endlessly had taken down others with her gaze dawned upon her. Never, in the history of her life had a man ever turned away first, and outlasted her staring. It was like she didn’t matter. Like she was normal, nothing to see. Never had she been  _ so  _ ignored. 

It bothered her, more than she could say. She had lost.

Hayo hadn’t turned away and was staring at Sayuriama, giving her a slight smile, until Madara turned to him, and he resumed looking at the table expressionlessly. Hashirama turned back to Madara, and their conversation continued. Mito turned back a moment later, a meager comment on how well she looked, which received a humble nod. 

Just who  _ was  _ Madara Uchiha?!?

\--X--

Tobirama tried not to roll his eyes. His sister was merciless in her dealings, using her skills to do as she pleased, but he had a sinking feeling that she had finally met her match. He may have planned it because he knew his sister would finally receive the knowledge that there were people who would still be willing to put aside her looks and be annoyed by her. A good learning experience, he reasoned, though he knew Hashirama was certainly of another mind. 

Probably about time, though he wished it wasn’t the Uchiha who finally did it. Madara had little patience for those he felt were beneath them. Which was practically everyone, minus Hashirama.

Now, Tobirama wasn’t the most sensitive brother, and the most sympathetic award went to Hashirama hands down. Still, when it came to observations, Tobirama was more than qualified to discern his younger sister's remarkably timid expression, a first for her. He rarely saw her looking so chastised. 

It was mildly amusing, the battle playing out the way it did. 

Madara had been so ferocious in his look that he must have scared her out of her wits. She had come in the same way a lion saunters to its prey and left a lamb in the slaughter. 

He still wasn’t going to  _ thank _ the Uchiha Clan Leader.

Hayo Uchiha had switched between giving longing looks to her that were equally ignored, to remembering his clan leader was  _ right next to him  _ and unhappy. This was something he and Hashirama would definitely joke about later.

He hadn’t expected much more than what had happened. Until Sayuriama got that look on her face. Her prideful expression finally shifted, around the time they were talking about bargaining chips, or perhaps approaching a different feudal lord. His younger sister got a rather determined look on her face, a beautiful smile that enveloped her face. A pang entered his stomach, and he suddenly wished that he had never bothered his sister that morning.

He wondered if he was getting her signals wrong, but his young, beautiful, impetuous sister had the look of a huntress as raised her head to look back at Tobirama. She gave him a smile that said  _ defeated but not dead,  _ and I’ve learned something splendid.

She wasn’t going to stand by the insult. This was war.

What Sayuriama wanted she tended to get, and Tobirama felt a twinge of apprehension. She had never met a man like Madara Uchiha. He gave a firm frown which she returned with an even bigger smile. He shook his head slightly, knowing what she may have been thinking. She placed her hands and tilted her head demurely. 

The hunt was on. 

\--X--

Hashirama was standing on the cliffs over the village, Madara next to him. Hayo was waiting for him a little ways off, sweating heavily in the heat.

“I am sorry Madara. My sister is not adjusting well and is looking for ways to manage her own emotions.” He shifted to his other foot, face apologetic. Madara raised an eyebrow, waving a hand as if swatting his comment away.”

“I am quite surprised, Hashirama, that you had such a sibling so well hidden away. In all our dealings you have never once revealed her, nor has your clan.” It didn’t need to be said why. “She has all the Senju pride you lack.”

Hashirama laughed.

“Of course. She is still young and can be reckless. I apologize on her behalf. Like most of the village, she doesn’t understand many things, including our friendship.”

Madara snorted. “Of course. If I were you, Hashirama, I would be careful of such a rebellious spirit, especially in a woman. You will look like a weak clan head to the village if you don’t.”

Hashirama shrugged as if it was useless. “It is my fault. She struggles because she doesn’t understand. It was never safe too.” More unsaid thoughts they exchanged as the wind whistled through their clothes and hair. “Don’t be too hard on her. She is much like the village. She needs time to understand our dreams.”

“Hm. I have little interest in talking about your sister and her slights. What I am curious about is your motives. I can’t imagine why you brought a child to a political discussion.”

Hashirama shrugged. “Had she been interested in the task, she would have contributed. She’s used to dealing with Lords and, dare I say, doling out rejections. She knows these people in a way we shinobi don’t.”

“Yes, that I believe.” Madara drawled, finding the image of the pretty girl surrounded by court fops rather fitting. And for some reason, it irritated him.

\--X--

“Can men like men?” 

It was the first thing she had said all afternoon. Tsunada raised an eyebrow at her ward as she stared into the water. Since being excused from the meeting she had been tight-lipped, saying nothing with a look that Tsunada wasn’t sure to think of. 

“Uh... I’m not sure.” She answered, very unsure of how to respond to such a question.

Both women were sitting on a stone bench by a small murky pond in the shade of a large overhanging tree with limbs spread wide. This secret little garden in the village was one of Hashirama’s better ones, full of lush grasses and plants. 

“Mm, it may be the case. But wouldn’t beauty still be apparent to even them?” For the first time in her life, Sayuriama questioned her beauty. “Perhaps he is trying to appear faithful.” Tsunada raised a brow and rubbed her forehead.

Instead of Sayuriama’s usual mood of bored mischief, she was... thoughtful. 

Tsunada found the change most disturbing, as the following questions were. Why, this morning, the girl had skipped breakfast entirely, demanded the simplest, lightest cotton yukata available, and tried walking right out of the compound without an escort (Much to guard’s horror). They attempted to stop her but she weaseled her way out, and they eventually pointed Tsunada in the right direction.

She found her successfully dazzling a takoyaki vendor out of some food. Thankfully Tsunada was able to divert the wandering of the girl, give the poor vendor money, and they went to the local park. And now they were having an existential conversation.

“Are we talking about Lord Hashirama? Because if-”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sayuriama lifted her chin arrogantly. This earned her a smack on the head, but she avoided the second. 

“Ow! Don’t damage the only thing I’ve got going!” Sayuriama pouted. “I’ll never marry if you do.”

“You’re the one being stupid, brat!” Tsunada growled. “You don’t even have the slightest interest in marriage.”

Sayuriama sighed and twisting her hair around a finger, not even putting up a fight. 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

The answer was enough of a surprise that Tsunada paused from going to sit on a bench, turning round to watch the young woman.

“Are you sick?” Sayuriama looked up, her hair twisted into a long braid swinging as she looked over with some derision. She slipped out of her straw zori shoes and wiggled her toes.

“Not in the traditional sense.” She shrugged, turning towards the little pond a few feet away. Tsunada’s shoulders squared, suspicion causing her stomach to drop. “Maybe a bit... lovesick?” 

Now Tsunada was very concerned. 

“ _ What  _ is going on?” Tsunada dropped her hands, put them back up, and yanked her wards head back. Sayuriama twisted, hissing at the motion.

“Careful! It’s not so difficult, old woman. I’m going to make him love me.” Sayuriama pronounced to the air. “And then I’ll destroy him. Or I’ll end up marrying him. Preferably destroy. After all, I have to do something for Ita and Kawa...”

Tsunada grunted at the names of Sayuriama’s long-dead brothers. She grabbed her shoulders, causing them to have a staredown of sorts.

“How many nephews do I have?” Tsunada asked pointedly. Sayuriama pursed her lips at the question, raising an elegant brow.

“You were a single child. Tsun-”

“What food do you always ask me to make?” Sayuriama got a bit flushed, and a slight smile came to her lips.

“Tofu stuffed with Sushi rice.” She replied smoothly.

“Least favorite?”

“Tsunada what the- OW! ROE! ROE-” Tsunada sighed, releasing the hostage strands of hair. This was Sayuriama sure enough. “Don’t pull my hair like that, you heathen.”

“Alright. Who are you babbling about and why are you going to marry him? And who are you talking about with Itama and Kawarama?” A large grin spread on her smooth face, and her cheeks went pink. She looked like she was about to reveal a juicy secret, and reached to undo her braid.

“He may be the only man who has ever ignored my beauty... if he is who I hope he is, I will marry him. He’ll see me for who I am, and not just my beauty.” In a change of mood, Sayuriama clenched her fist, looking passionately determined. “Or I’ll crush his heart.”

The situation became clear for the older kunoichi. “You are going to crush... your crush?” Sayuriama’s eyes narrowed, the thick lashes fluttering, catching the light. 

“Such a bumbling way-” Tsunada raised a hand, and Sayuri ducked. “In essence, yes.”

“Fine, fine. Now, who is this man?  _ Hayo Uchiha _ ? I thought you forget him by the end of the last week.” Sayuriama looked up for a moment, smirking. For a moment her eyes gazed past Tsunada before she turned away.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Get with the times,  _ Golden Arrow _ .”

Sayuriama stood up, and Tsunada let her from her grasp. She let her rich dark hair fall its full length, down brush her thighs. She had used the time to loosen it.

Her walk over to the pond was suspiciously flagrant as she let her hips swing more than necessary. Tsunada didn’t think much of it until Sayuriama’s hands went to her simply tied obi.

“What are you-”

She slipped off the tie holding her obi, shaking off the top layer of her yukata to reveal her creamy undergarment beneath, a thin white robe. Tsunada gasped and ran over to stop her, but Sayuriama stepped in the water. The pond was smallish, but it was deep, and as the old woman attempted to reach her, Sayuriama slipped and fell in.

Tsunada shrieked. 

Tobirama would kill her for killing his only sister, if not from the shame of it all. Anyone could see them by accident! It was a public location, a large bridge with a minor fence overlooking the place. 

Fortunately, Sayuriama’s head broke the top of the water soon after and the grin on her face was all the more anger-inducing. Her laugh was bell-like, dark hair in rivulets around her. 

“I’ll kill you myself!” Tsunada attempted to pull her out but was grabbed and pulled in instead. “ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She continued to laugh, feeling as if she was on air instead of drenched in her undergarments. It was warm, as it always was in Konoha during the day, and the water was deliciously cool. She laughed even harder as Tsunada surfaced and drug herself upon the shore again.

“You little BRAT.”

“Hm. Don’t be like that, Tsunada. Live a little.” Sayuriama smiled coyly, and Tsunada sighed. Even sopping wet the girl managed to look lovely, and it caused her to worry. She had been the one who had swatted away the army of suitors since Sayuriama had come home. Pulling the younger girl out, Tsunada gave her the evil at the way her garment brashly stuck to her figure, making it all too clear what was underneath.

“I have lived  _ plenty. _ ” She replied drily. 

The older kunoichi performed the hand signs, as Sayuriama tried not to look jealous, ungrateful that her damp clothes quickly lost all wetness. She jumped back into the pond, cackling, causing Tsunada to get splashed again.

“GET OVER HERE NOW!” 

Sayuriama snickered then went to the middle of the pond.

“Don’t I look good enough to ravish, Tsunada?”

\--X--

Hayo Uchiha jumped back, a trail of blood erupting from his nose. Madara whirled around, kunai in his hand before realizing there was nothing wrong but a moronic underling that was clearly peeping at some women.

Madara let him hit the opposite wall of the alley they were passing through, on their way back to the Uchiha compound. Hayo had stopped only for a moment to overlook a park for some reason, and Madara had obliged, seeing some promising new shops. At the sight he left the child to recover, entering ones boasting having a new type of exploding tag.

He narrowed his eyes, once again imagining ways that he would like to dispose of Hayo. How quickly would Clan the notice if Madara did displace him? Maybe it was worth the risk regardless.

He didn’t spare a passing glance to the gap in the gate Hayo had been looking through and kept walking, dragging the bedazzled shinobi behind him.

Not once, during the entire meeting, did the little bastard take his eyes off the Senju girl. It was disconcerting, to say the least, a dishonor to the clan, and even more to himself, and unusual behavior for the demure-ish Hayo. It had been effortful enough being, invited to an important meeting like this.

He finally let himself muse on the bet he made with himself earlier. He begrudged the fact that he had  _ almost _ lost that bet.

It had been that moment he turned, he would forever wonder the motives behind Hashirama inviting his young girl sister. He had seen the playfully dangerous glimmer of challenge in the eldest Senju’s eyes just as she entered. 

It would be a lie, a dangerous one at that, to say that she was not... striking. If Madara had not had the prowess that  _ Madara Uchiha _ was known for, he may have let himself take a long look and be rather impressed. He didn’t know women were made quite like that.

She was, after all, very beautiful. Many women had wear and tear, scars, acne, and were in some way marred. Especially ninja women. She had all the bearings of being  _ very _ well taken care of, potentially like nobility, despite a few cuts on her hands, almost imperceptible. Strange.

But there was no way he couldn’t concede to her open gaze, automatically rising to the challenge, no matter the opponent. Her eyes immediately threatened him when they had connected, and so he rose to the attack, reminding this little Senju just  _ who  _ he was and what he was capable of doing even without the Sharingan.

He watched her face going pale, seeing her self-important eyes turn down, and he relished in putting a girl, one so close to Tobirama Senju, in her place. And after he smoothly continued talking.

No Senju would look down on him. He did not want Hashirama to get him while his back was turned, especially now. 

It did bother him that he did want to look again then, as it did agitate him somewhat that she was  _ so _ beautiful. Beautiful enough to make it desirable for another look, which was ridiculous. Of course, he wasn’t going to look at her frustrated little face scrunch up in displeasure, satisfied beyond belief to know  _ he  _ was the one that did that. So few men could probably bother the little Senju princess, but  _ he  _ could, and oh the things-

Madara almost stopped in the road, recognizing that this train of thought was not something he wanted to continue.

Dangerous. That’s what it was. Downright  _ dangerous  _ to think of these things about a Senju woman barely old enough to cast moon eyes and coy smiles at suitors. She did not understand a thing about the world and much less about  _ him.  _ She wasn’t a woman a man could toy with. She was a deliberate pawn, one used to link nations, entire treaties, and settle disputes. 

She was a  _ bride  _ one gave much to acquire. It clicked to him, just what Hashirama may have been teasing. Was he mocking him, teasing him with his sister in such a way? Of course, he, Madara Uchiha, would never be tempted by such a-

The thought crossed his mind, the image of the Senju girl in a beautiful white kimono. If she was slightly more mature, had experience...

Shit. He glowered, causing Hayo to shrink, and vendors to hide behind their stalls as they passed through.

Had he, Madara, ever considered such a disgusting notion as  _ taking a foreign bride _ , a Senju teenager would be the very last on the list. Not only was she a  _ Senju _ , heaven forbid, but she was more a court girl than a shinobi. A wild, impetuous sprite who needed a good taming.

_ You could do that. _

He positively gnashed his teeth at his traitorous thoughts. No wonder Hayo had been such a fool! It was impossible to stop the flood of warmth at the idea of taming the most dazzling, wicked creature in the Fire Country. 

_ Traitor. What kind of Uchiha clan leader are you?  _ The voice criticized darkly. 

Madara steeled himself.

This could not be. He would not allow this Senju child to have any more of his thoughts. The voice of  _ him  _ rose to agree.

_ If you give in to any Senju woman, I will never forgive you. _

Hashirama was striking quite a low blow if he thought that he, Madara Uchiha, would ever consider his sister any more than a bug on his shoe. 

There would be hell the pay on the training ground, Hayo knew, looking at the look on his Clan Leader’s face. And no Izuna to temper him.

There was one interesting thing, Madara mused, pulling Hayo who was eating dirt behind him. It was something he could freely think about the girl with no guilt.

A pure Senju, sister of her brothers and a pinnacle of beauty... but the woman lacked any sort of  _ presence,  _ specifically the type that came with chakra and thrummed through a Shinobi’s awareness like a beacon. The only sort of feeling he had was a strange one, a sort of emptiness.

This was the  _ only  _ reason he had glanced at her when she had left,  _ he lied to himself. _

It was almost as if she  _ was _ a chakra draining seal, and though he dare not use his Sharingan and cause suspicion, he was almost sure something was off. So, he mused, just what had a little Senju princess been doing, hidden away in the Uzumaki Clan? The  Fūinjutsu and other sealing techniques possessed there,  combined with his own flawless intuition, would cause him more than one sleepless night.

Just what was the Senju girl hiding under that beautiful veneer?

\--X--

Sayuriama looked up, back to the overlook where she had seen the retreating Uchiha’s. Even revealed in this manner, Madara hadn’t given a second look, though Hayo certainly had got his fill. She stood there, dumbfounded, in a dirty pond, getting yelled at, while she watched Madara drag Hayo away.

She decided, then and there.

She WOULD have over Madara Uchiha.

\--X--

Madara felt a chill go down his spine but brushed it off with a raised eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which sexual tension is mistranslated as pride.
> 
> BTW, I'm using the Grammarly app, just the free version to correct things, but it still might not get it all. Be kind to me, I have children. They may be animals, but they still need attention.
> 
> I love you, please talk to me.


	6. Scroll 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press F for giving thanks lol
> 
> Two is good right? I'm working on editing the next few, and they should be up soon.

“So he likes looking as battle gear in his free time! Put it down!” The beautiful young woman cackled to Tsunada who grimly added a note to the book she was carrying and pretending she was  _ far far  _ away. The large brimmed farmer's hat did little to hide the way her shoulders slumped in mortification. She sighed in exasperation, but she continued until she wrote the information down on a scrap of paper. It was difficult writing with the charcoal but she managed it.

Sayuriama was in fine form, her whispers quiet but all too animated, eyes sparkling behind her own hat (better hidden behind long strands of fabric covering her.) at the game she had concocted. Tsunada mourned the previous day that she had left behind.

“Lord Tobirama said to both us, just yesterday, and very specifically to  _ not _ to get involved with any Uchihas!” She knew it was a hopeless venture to try and change her mind, but she couldn’t change her ways either.

“How prejudicial of him,” Sayuriama said with a grin. “Hashirama oft says that we should get to know the Uchiha better.”

” _ Sayuriama- _ ”

”Tsu-Tsu, we are on the brink of great discovery. We are not doing any _involving-_ just _observing._ ” The older woman gave her a tired, worried look as the young woman gestured at the street they happened to be walking down. The same street Madara Uchiha was at the far end of, blissfully unaware of being watched by the Senju. “Think about the spirit of it. Darling Hashirama would want us to cultivate a good relationship with the Uchiha clan.”

”Following Madara Uchiha is the most brainless thing I've ever heard.” Tsunada knew it was only a matter of time till the Uchiha Clan Leader grew irritated with them. She  _ knew  _ he was aware because he was being just slow enough for them to follow. He was  _ baiting  _ them. It was not going to end well.

”Look on the bright side, he is  _ so _ interesting to watch.” Sayuriama rolled her eyes, smiling brightly. “But he’ll do something, make some mistake, and when he does, I’ll be there to point it out.”

”You’re  _ not  _ going to win this game.” But it was too late, the girl already falling into his trap, rounding the corner to follow him down a street that was all Shinobi shops. Sayuriama would have little excuse to say why she was there. 

Sayuriama grinned widely, jumping behind the corner as she saw the dark-haired Uchiha turn in their direction. 

“I doubt Hashirama had this in mind,” Tsunada muttered. As a proud old kunoichi, and she was embarrassed by this sort of subterfuge. 

She really needed to cull her, reprimand her as Tobirama had encouraged. But whenever she tried… Well, this girl had pulled her heartstrings long before she came to the village and she had no heart to ruin the little connection she had left to the Senju Mother.

But still, she was out of her depth.

The Uchiha Clan leader was leaps and bounds ahead of her, and even in her wisdom, she knew not to try and understand him too much. He rebelled against closeness, and since his brother’s passing, it was known he hadn’t taken a second-in-command. It was as if he thought he could resurrect his dead brother from mere force of will.

Which, Heaven forbid, would be a nightmare. The only Uchiha who could single-handedly bring a war in the village would be the hell-raiser of a brother Madara Uchiha had possessed. Proud, familial, and even worse,  _ clever _ . 

He brought ruin beneath his quick feet, his hand signs near as fast as Hashirama Senju, he complimented his elder brother, counseled him, and made the Uchiha Clan unanimously back their leader behind the scenes. He faithfully supported his brother at every turn, and it was only with his death was Madara Uchiha brought down enough to consider negotiations.

It struck Tsunada that Izuna Uchiha was rather like Sayuriama. Impossible to convince, assuredly ready to cause mischief. After all, At Sayuriama’s own  _ forceful _ request they had seriously dressed down. She could have passed as regular.

Almost. 

She didn’t get nearly the amount of abject staring,  _ namely people dropping what they were doing to gaze upon her beauty _ , but they were getting plenty from the game they were playing.

Tsunada knew she needed to tell Tobirama, get this behavior under control, as she had clearly underestimated Sayuriama’s need for vengeance. But there was no mercy, especially to those closest to the Senju family members. Sayuriama Senju was an easy target for Madara Uchiha.

The predicted a short-lived infatuation to ruin the Uchiha man had been routine until it wasn’t. Sayuriama had even forgone her usual state of shinobi worship and secret training in order to prepare for such a moment as this.

But of all men, she could hand pick, so chose the one with far too much pride to now down and kneel. He would consider her beneath him, and Sayuriama would never beat him. He was too knowledgeable, too intelligent, and as much as it rankled Tsunada, he was far too mysterious and alluring to a young girl. Girls would think they could curb him, but the truth was he always bent others to his will. Everyone but Hashirama, Tsunada noted thankfully. 

Of all the men, Tsunada groaned internally, why  _ Madara Uchiha.  _

Tsunada had to bite her lip as Sayuriama went out from behind the building and started following the Uchiha again. It was so obvious and poorly done, that no longer did Tsunada wonder why Sayuriama had not been allowed to train. 

This spectacle would no doubt make Lord Tobirama throw Sayuriama into a river. 

Sayuriama hadn’t bothered fearing Tobirama, knowing that he was usually Tsunada’s very last resort. She had nothing to fear from the Uchiha Clan Leader and had more street smarts than anyone gave her credit for. And she was more observant than she let on.

She had seen the way the townspeople looked at Madara Uchiha, caught the flat way he conducted himself, always a hair away from awkward. He was uncomfortable, and she knew the feeling well. But unlike her, people kept their distance, watched in trepidation. Those he tried talking to were scared of him, and he didn’t know how to project anything but that gruff exterior. He needed it when he was the only source of authority to his Clan, but it hurt him in this town of Clans. 

But despite having a tongue that cut and shredded, one that cut men to size… she didn’t see him use it much. 

Instead, he just seemed aloof, and if she were presumptuous enough to say so (which she usually was) she seemed rather lonely. And something in her seemed to connect with that. 

She knew that she was being immature, reading too much into him. And despite her lofty proclamations and angry declarations, there was another reason she was interested in Madara Uchiha.

She… well, she  _ wanted  _ him to like her. Or even just see her. If he could so easily forget her appearance, then was it hard to reason that he may discover she was a person as well? There would be no good to come from her girlish infatuation with the Uchiha leader. There was no benefit in trying to cut him down to size either, but she couldn’t tell Tsunada that she... that he made her heart race. That she  _ wanted  _ him to confront her. To look at her, even if it was with that loathing glare he was so proficient with. This time she’d be prepared to laugh it off, to tease him into curiosity. To know him was something she wanted. So much history, and with everything she had heard, she was trying to fit the puzzle together and finding pieces lacking.

She heard so much about what a magnificent Shinobi he was, and so little of what type of man he was.

He was a warrior with little who compared, but there were always the whispers on the street. Whispers of  _ where his power came from,  _ of the death of his younger brother, and the cursed eyes he possessed. The things that the Senju clan members would never say in front of the main family, especially her. Hashirama was generous, but one of the few times she had seen him cold was when an advisor directed him that he should displace Madara Uchiha and exile him. She had never seen such cold rage in Hashirama’s gaze.

The stories that Tsunada told were always censored and limited, and she would tell her nothing about Madara himself. The older woman respected him. 

This was the only thing Sayuriama could think to do. And if her silliness became town gossip she’d handle it. 

Madara paused and then turned. Sayuriama panicked.

Her hand grabbed Tsunada’s collar and yanked her behind a fish stall. Tsunada wrinkled her nose at the smell, but the girl was too busy peeking through the stacked fish.

“Tsunada! It looks like he’s ordering Tofu, to go with the sushi rice! Do you think he likes  _ Inarizushi _ ?!?” She whispered in excitement, Tsunada struggled to figure out a way to tell her that sharing favorite foods was not uncommon. 

Sayuriama noticed that he didn’t just send out lower clan members to make the order. Was this a strange sign of independence and taking care to get to know the villagers? Or did he not trust anyone else? Perhaps to garner comradery? Or for a more sinister purpose? 

Tsunada couldn’t answer Sayuriama’s questions, but she knew enough to speculate a good deal more than her ward. She was privy to what others in the clan said and thought, and especially the war-worn shinobi had seen and heard.

And she knew that the moment of confrontation was closing in. Madara had gotten more deliberate in his pacing, slower and visibly more irritated. His conversations with people grew clipped.

  
  


It was with practiced reflexes that she avoided Sayuriama’s back hitting her into the dirt ground or clay building.

“WHAT are you-” Tsunada began, only to get a hand over her mouth. Sayuriama’s other hand came before her hat, miming a fretful ‘be quiet’. 

The girl peeked up, then crouched to the round again, eyes blown and looking as if she was about to hyperventilate. “He’s coming… he’s looking straight over here… I haven't thought of anything to say!  _ My hair, Tsunada! _ ” It was Tsunada's turn to shut her ward up, which she did by smacking her with the rice paper roll she was writing in, a charcoal smudge on her nose. Enough was enough. Sayuriama yelped and let go, charcoal smudged on her pert nose.

“Ow.” She muttered, pouting prettily, then biting her bottom lip. She turned to raise, and Tsunada, who by this time had the better vantage point, cried out. 

It was too late to stop it.

Sayuriama’s movement caused her large brimmed hat to hit Madara Uchiha's face squarely under his chin. The hat flopped forward, Sayuriama reeled back, and Madara thoughtfully put a hand to his face, looking rather amused. Tsunada was still kneeling, hand out in warning.

_We’re done for,_ she thought. _He’s going to kill us and be done with it._

“Ah, Sorry!” Sayuriama said quickly, blind at first due to fitting her hat. “My fault-” Her apology stuck in her throat as she realized whom she had hit.

“I must say, Lady Senju, you certainly have a way with hats.” Madara drawled, hand on his hip. “And let’s not to mention your... marketplace prowess.” Madara enunciated the last phrase devilishly, making it clear she was on to them.

_ Just what are you up to?  _ He starred, and both women turned to look away.

His strong hand was leaning on the table, avoiding the piles of fresh fish, dangerously near Sayuriama's slender tips steadying herself. She looked a little like a fish herself, mouth open in a circle, eyes wide looking at the sleek, darkly dressed man. 

“Uh..” Her eyes suddenly turned down as she took a step back.

Tsunada looked in surprise as her charge was silent, the realization clicking in her head. Sayuriama. Speechless? 

Crap.

She didn’t want to  _ embarrass _ Madara. If she had, she would have taken this moment to its fullest. No, there was no vengeance here... she wanted to  _ impress _ him.

She...  _ liked _ him. 

Tsunada did her best not to heave and focused on the best way to separate the impending disaster. She refused to imagine there was a rational reason for what Sayuriama may see in him. His large boy towered over them, black eyes rimmed with even darker lashes that were too scary to be handsome. His sharp chin and high cheeks framed by sable hair was not the least bit lovely or inviting! The small amounts of skin revealed at his wrists and throat were so pale, only the faintest pink was blood rushed, too different from most of the Senju. Even if the Uchiha’s, on a begrudgingly level at best, were known as handsome, it didn’t mean their Clan Leader was. Even if he was in peak form, body exuding virility and power, visible under his black clothes.Not to mention his quick mind, a virtuoso at strategy, and wielding any weapon. Always ready to say the most clever jibe, or move the conversation in whatever way pleased him. 

Or to censure whoever stands in his way...

No, nothing here to admire.

Everything that was pure temptation, anything that evoked long dark nights under a soft moon, wrapped in blankets and limbs was swallowed by the fear of his worst weapon.

His midnight eyes. 

All of those cursed eyes. 

Madara narrowed those said eyes, raised his smooth eyebrows, giving him a most mocking look. He was not impressed with their lack of reply.

”Women should not be out so. Especially this little Senju.” He said dismissively to Tsunada as if giving her an order he expected to be followed. She almost did so, much to her mortification.

“Lord Uchiha,” Tsunada replied carefully, raising her eyes to meet his face to challenge him back. His eyes were thankfully still dark, but it still seemed like he could see straight through her, a nasty smirk twisting his lips. “What a pleasure.”

“I could say the same,  _ Golden Arrow Senju _ ,” He suddenly grabbed her wrist, examining the list she held. “How curious to find us sharing such similar interests. I believe I’ve seen you and Lady Senju around the market quite a bit this last week.”

He let go, and she backed away, overcorrecting. She couldn’t help but go into a fighting stance. Ah, so here it was. She turned to her ward, expecting her to jump in, anytime now. To charm him, somehow, or make their excuses. 

Sayuriama's face turned redder, even as she stood a little straighter. Tsunada calmly forced her chagrin down and put her hands behind her back. Even though she was much older than him, it felt like he had millennials to back him up.

He would harass them right then and there if she didn’t get Sayuriama to say something. The few vendors on the road were watching the altercation, waiting. Some even closed shop.

Tsunada kept her voice cool, dismissive as if he were implying a strange thing. 

“We try to support all the clans, and Lord Hashirama likes that personal touch. The city is quite impressive, and I believe we have you to thank.  _ Isn’t that right, Lady Sayuriama _ .” Madara and Tsunada turned, and Sayuriama faltered, face turning away.

So she was finally subdued. 

Tsunada raised an eyebrow. She had even given an opening for the customarily clever Sayuriama to use, but she was acting like a shy toddler, hands twisted together, face red, looking like she would flee on the spot. His eyes darkening into a contemplative look, giving her a sudden shock of sympathy that she dared not deny it. But it switched to sharp derision in a moment.

“All the clans?” Madara said with a bored tone, apparently thinking this game was getting boring. His tone finally caused Sayuriama to turn back, shifting. “I suppose only a young girl and an older woman would have time for such a… venture.”

A straight-up insult. He thought near useless and utterly wasted. And it burned Tsunada and Sayuriama, in turn, to be treated like dolls like  _ women  _ were always treated. So much so that Madara had finally broken through Sayuriama’s embarrassment, her wits returning in full force.

He turned to leave, punishment executed and unduly satisfied. He had accomplished his purpose and sent his message. 

But it wasn’t her anger that finally rose to say something. 

It was her pity for him. For him to think so little of them, he must be  _ very  _ lonely. 

And as she looked at the stores, shops, and stands the people gathered turned to scatter, threatened by him, that conviction deepened. 

It came out of her mouth too fast to stop, changing the situation so dramatically that it made him pause.

“Don’t you think, Lord Uchiha, that a Clan’s most important contribution to a village such as this, would be its ability to ensure its ability to keep good relationships? After all, we, our families, our future children are only safe if everyone’s role is appreciated.”

Madara squared his shoulders, straightened to his full height before turning to look her down with a fierce demeanor. She didn't look away, merely raised a hand to inspect her nails, a trick that helped her focus when she was self-conscious. The reaction was so sudden that she wondered if she had finally spotted a crack in his metaphorical armor, a soft-spot.

He didn’t answer, considering her much more carefully. She was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed again but managed to flick up her gaze with the most condescending look possible.

“I am a mere girl, perhaps. But if that’s what you think, I may have higher aspirations than you thought possible. ”

Perhaps she had just earned another round of agonizing humility, as her words hinted more at something male shinobi disliked talking about, the role of an influential woman. 

“What aspirations would a young Senju princess possess?” He asked. Taking a decisive step around the first stall to stand next to her, almost growing in size, aura dark as night. Tsunada took a step back, but Sayuriama stood her ground, hand moving to the large hat she had been wearing.

“Why, my lord, what sort of internal conflicts a clan has, is best solved by the Clan Mistress. I may not possess the battle prowess of my brothers, but there would be no clan without a steady hand to guide its resources.”

“You aspire to be a Clan Mistress?” He asked, humored by the bold words. He leaned down, and Tsunada shifted her weight, ready to carry the girl away like a bolt of lightning. He looked ready to smirk at Tsunada’s movements, but was quick to turn back to the girl- No, this was no girl. This young woman. 

Sayuriama didn’t disappoint, her own brows raising at his insinuation. 

“No, Clan Leader. Merely pointing out the obvious. I’m sure you’re aware that without women, the clan has no heir. No heir means a clan struggles, despite changing circumstances.” His levity disappeared, words striking him hard. He was quick to strike back.

“Is that a woman's only worth? A cog to ensure a clan’s continuation? To provide use?” She tried not to recoil, knowing that he must have heard of her wandering. Knowing she had no place. He would only agree to her point if she agreed to his. “What if she wanders, directionless?”

“One doesn’t always need a clan to be of use. In a village of this size, a woman can do many duties befitting of her worth. Men as well.” She could feel her head getting hot, and in an attempt to remain on top of the conversation, let it slide back and hang off her neck. The other market-goers had somewhat abated but now open stared in disbelief, a bit of a crowd forming. At the sight of the Senju princess, many ran off, hot gossip to tell. 

Sayuriama didn’t notice in the least, and Madara found himself wanting it to stay that way, so this conversation would continue. 

How long had he waited to talk to a person who neither wanted his allegiance or derision? Who just wanted a good disagreement? Who wanted to change his  _ mind,  _ not just his decisions. 

“Enlighten me.” He was quick to rile her up again.

“Times are changing, and I’m waiting for the right moment. Perhaps one needs a bit of wandering to ensure things are right.” 

“What if things never feel right?” He countered again, casually as he would. “Sounds like a privileged woman wasting time and the energy of her clan.” She now had both hands on her hips, leaning in.

“Better to waste  _ time  _ and  _ energy  _ thinking of how to best serve others than to waste lives pointlessly battling.” She enunciated harshly.

“How quaint. Unfortunately, Senju girl, if men don’t battle, women don’t get to have these walks that are so important to you.” He snapped, sassily. “It’s hard to  _ feel nice _ when your clan is dead.”

“If men continue to insist feelings don’t matter, it will eventually be the death of them. Even  _ you,  _ Lord Uchiha. Perhaps you should take a breather once in a while.” She finished with a smile that had once made a man dive in a lake to find the ring she had accidentally dropped. “Or are you too busy to notice that?”

Madara's untamed ebony hair flowed in the wind as a breeze passed through, his body perfectly still.

She had crossed into some very personal territory, in a rather public way. The conversation finally stalled. Sayuriama didn’t break their gazes, but she did finally notice the crowd that had formed. And that Tobirama was definitely going to hear about this, and scold her.

”A young Senju girl is the first to ask me about  _ my feelings _ .” He said flatly, rather breathless, and maybe a bit in love. She felt equally winded, hoping he would give in soon. Instead, he moved towards her, startling her. Not just casually, but consuming her as if he now had some genuine interest in her. Like she had passed a test.

She blinked, moving a bit away and Madara stepped away from the table, looking a bit cornered. Tsunada shifted behind her, coming back to reality. The handle of a kunai appeared from her sleeve, and everyone waited at the knife's edge.

“Lady…. Sayuriama, is it?” Madara stepped back, defusing the situation. His intense look lingered, tempered by a large smirk as asked for permission to address her more casually. It was an admission of respect, and it made her stomach flip. She had impressed him. “May I?”

Sayuriama took a long moment, considering the man, before nodding. He stepped forward, moving before her to give a rather embarrassingly low bow. And she knew he was doing it to embarrass her because she saw the devilish smirk he was using. 

_ She very much enjoyed seeing him so. _

“What an enlightening conversation this has been, Lady Sayuriama.” Her name, which usually held little consequence when others said it, sounded very unconventional in his smirking mouth. 

He was a tease, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“I would prefer if you would just use my name. Lady becomes tiresome to hear.” She said forwardly, letting her entire hat loosen to fall midback, a motion that let her loosened locks tumble over her shoulders and gleam in the morning light. 

It was completely inappropriate, asking him to disregard formalities and treat her as a close family friend by using just her first name.

He raised both sharp brows, and she swore she saw him swallow as he straightened. Tsunada paled, and Sayuriama summarily continued to ignore her. 

“Such forwardness. A Senju indeed, but it may be a bit soon for such casualness. Perhaps later.” 

She nodded, smiling sweetly. “I plead your mercy.” 

If Tsunada could have melted into the ground, she would have.

“I’ll be on the lookout for you. Don’t be shy.” He commanded casually, looking distinctly amused. She wondered if he would tell Hashirama on her, but had a feeling he was up for some casual flirting. 

Because if this continued, she would never lose the pleasant tinge over her face, the warmth in her stomach, and the beauty of the moment. It was one thing for her to be so presumptuous... But for a clan leader to reply in stride? He was secretly  _ funny. _

Oh, this man was dangerous. 

“Lord Madara.” She bowed, letting her thick hair flow over her face.

“Then it’s settled,  _ little sprout _ .” He turned to Tsunada as Sayuriama’s brows rose in dismay at the nickname. It was a terrible pun on the meaning of Senju. “Regrettably I have Clan business I must attend too, but I’m sure I’ll see you.” She couldn’t look him in the eye, and it had nothing to do with his Sharingan. 

“Of course,” Tsunada said, mortified.

It was a step forward, perhaps one to end this debacle between them and be friends. She liked him, a lot, she knew, but he would never humor a woman outside of his clan. So to be on good terms would have to be the best it got.

Sayuriama was feeling rather victorious, but her face fell as Madara turned to her again, stepping in closer than he had before. Tsunada stiffened, late to react.

“What a lovely smile you have.” He raised his gloved knuckles, smoothly taking a long strand of hair and raising it to his lips. The small flame of interest inside her grew, and before she knew it, it had blossomed into a full-blown crush. 

The feeling of being shy crept on her, a long lost nemesis coming to haunt her, and she turned away, rather flustered. Madara’s mouth crept up, face relaxing, appreciating such a surprising reaction.

He was quite surprised when he left his hand brush her silk-clad arm, brushing on her neck and releasing the lock of hair. He brushed a few strands back, smiling gently, as an older clan member would before leaning in. 

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

She trembled, a flash of naive fear flashing in her eyes, and she turned her head thinking he was bold enough to place a kiss. 

Except he didn’t, and instead used the moment to slide past her, fingers releasing her hair. Then, in seconds, he was down the street, wild hair waving as if to say farewell. 

Then he was gone.

Sayuriama blinked, turning to Tsunada, who turned fiercely glared at the crowd watching. Most politely unglued their eyes and went about their usual business, but with some new, juicy, gossip. Stragglers continued to stare at the beautiful girl, not sure if they were more interested in her, or the unusual happenings.

But she once again was frozen, until Tsunada took her hand. She grabbed it back, staring at the smooth skin.

“I am never washing this hand.” 

Tsunada raised an eyebrow and chuckled in relief. “Great gods. Let’s not do that again.” Turning to Sayuriama she grasped the said hand. “No more, or I’ll go straight to Tobirama.”

“Ah Tsu Tsu, don’t be like that. I’m sprouting _. _ ”

Wam!

“Ow!”

\--X--

Madara, taking the advice of a certain young lady, was at the top of a large grassy hill, ‘wandering’. He wondered if relaxing counted, or if she would call him out on the technicality, and found himself excited to discover just how his ‘little sprout’ would respond. 

So he lay back in the grass, long legs stretched in front of him, and just  _ considered his feelings. _

To his embarrassment, found it rather enlightening. Not that he didn’t know the importance of meditation or chakra training, but to solely focus on his own pleasure was a strange delight.

He felt incredibly and immediately guilty. 

_ What are you doing? The voice hissed. Don’t list- _

For the first time in a long time, he willed Izuna’s voice away. Instead, he replayed the delicious encounter in his head, over and over. For a moment he didn’t care that this independent, thoughtless, intelligent woman was a spoiled Senju brat. 

And that moment he surprised her just enough to catch her innocent credulity behind her sophisticated facade. She was still ignorant enough to mold and change. How careless of Hashirama to not teach her when to kneel, to tempt him-

_ Older brother, think of the possibilities. _

He paused. 

No, this was the wrong way to think of her. He must think of what the  _ benefits _ of using this Senju girl could bring his clan. He couldn’t put his desires over the Uchiha, not unless they could work together. But this girl wasn’t going to just go away, and if she had gotten the same sort of thrill at their conversation that he’d had… well, it was expected such a little thrill-seeker would look for him.

He smirked, remembering the discomfort of the deceptively calm Tsunada Senju. At least it was entertaining in the end.

As irritated as he should be for being followed for the entire last week, he snorted. It was so poorly done, so obvious, that it was comical. Often he had been the one following her, watching her, waiting for the best moment to scare her off.

It had been a long time since he had laughed and felt that light. He did enjoy teasing her, bringing that red flush to her face. She had been so skittish, like a little bird following a falcon. He wondered if she knew how easily he could consume her. 

A thought fluttered past him. 

Perhaps she was less a sprout and more a dove.

_ He alone could teach her, appreciate the subtly of her wings. _ Few men could impress her brothers in battle, and fewer who had the resources to claim such a bride. And there was only one person who she followed in the market.

Their union would cement the Senju and Uchiha permanently, in a way that could only break with serious bloodshed. He could appreciate the prize of having the most beautiful wife in the world, lord her over Tobirama despite the disgust he felt at actually being  _ related  _ to him. 

Maybe he would enjoy living again.

He blinked as a cloud passed overhead, darkening the sky. Drops of rain began falling, and he stood, moving to the tree to not be soaked at the flash storm. His imagination stopped sort, and like an assassin his worries returned, stabbing him in the back.

_ Imposter _

His face darkened, jaw taut. Izuna’s voice. Izuna’s voice, like a demon returning to taunt him.

When his younger brother had died, life had almost completely entered into the shadows and the pain of it had never left him. He wasn’t so stupid to deny that the thought of Hashirama’s sister made him feel rather warm.

He despised that and sneered as if to prove it. The rain grew thicker, sheets flooding the hill, and he let it soak his feet. A bitter cold reminder that if you wandered, you could end up washed away. 

_ Senju. _

It would be unbearable to form any connection to the clan that had murdered Izuna. To the sister of the man who ended any sentiment of joy in his heart.  _ Tobirama _ . If not for the desperate pleas of his clan vengeance would be his. Had Tobirama set her to this, he mused darkly.

But the Senu girl had one point. It may be time to choose a jealous bride from his clan who would scare Lady Sayuriama away. 

A failsafe, he reasoned, even while his being reeled in distaste. If it came down to Tobirama betraying the Uchiha felt a twinge when he should have been relishing in the idea of revenge. Why did he stop Hashirama, the one man that could face him, from killing himself? They had a history, a bloody one. Madara shook the memories of the young boys they had been, so long ago. Why not use the girl against them?

Because against all odds, he liked her boldness.

_ Sayuriama _ as she demanded. This Senju was from the same breed as Hashirama and that made him smile, as he put a gloved hand through his dark hair. She may have been terrible at tracking him, but he was surprised when she questioned his answer, watched eyes keenly bright. So soft, with a depth that most shinobi lost as they wore down. There was composure under the girlish mask she wore so well.

And something darker. 

Over the week he had many times assessed her strange state of chakra. The culprit, if he was to give a guess on the flow and feel, was a variety of seals of the Uzumaki variety. Something was hidden inside her.

Even though only the smallest wisps of chakra would escape, it saturated her Sayuriama with power, balance, and agility. The girl wasn’t naturally clumsy, rather, uncontrolled spurts of chakra throwing things askew, and he needed a bit longer to decide how best to utilize this information. 

He had one answer and more questions. 

“Heh,  _ little bird _ , you will make these next few weeks  _ rather _ interesting.”

\--X--

Hashirama sat across from his young sister who was carefully considering her shogi piece, on a rare evening of the family resting together. Tobirama lounged next to them, impatiently tapping a finger against the wood of the board.

“Oi, little sister, if you wait any longer, Hashirama will die of old age.” He said, impatiently.

“Tobirama, if you do not stop, I will stuff this piece up your nose.” She said, tapping his hand with her fan. He grunted, rolling to his back. “Right after Hashirama for that dirty trick.”

“All fair in love and war!” Hashirama laughed, making the other two sigh. 

“Be quick.” Tobirama folded his arms. “Or his puns will kill himself.”

“It might be the only thing capable of ending him,” She said with a cheeky grin, “Besides  _ this.”  _ She set down her rook, effectively trapping Hashirama. “ _ Tsumi,  _ elder brother _.”  _

Both brothers straightened up, attempting to find her fault or a move that would save Hashirama’s king. Tobirama furrowed his brows, but slowly, Hashirama nodded, palms together thoughtfully.

“Remarkable. I have never seen that move before, a rook that both ends the general and king in two turns.” Tobirama stared intently at the game as if she had just revealed the meaning of life to him. 

“That’s because you’re both narrow-minded.” She said, encouraging Hashirama to reach over and mess up her hair. “Hey!” 

Tobirama scoffed, standing up. “Good night. Don’t let her head get too big, Hashirama.” She rolled her eyes, Hashirama laughing as he left. Good-natured even in defeat, he turned to her, admiring her beaming good mood. She had been very reasonable of late.

“So what is your prize then, little sister?” He asked, arms folded. She gave a small smile.

“I want you to tell me about Madara Uchiha.” She said as if asking him to pass her a plate.

Hashirama didn’t laugh, to his credit, just let a smile fill his face. He, of course, had heard the rumors. “May I ask why?” 

She paused.

“Curiosity. Tobirama gets upset when I ask, Tsunada is tight-lipped, and no one else in the clan dares. I do not understand him, or why he let his clan come here. I dislike not knowing. It’s the least you could do, dragging me to meet him and be embarrassed.” She looked red in the face.

He sighed. “What would you like to know specifically?” She paused.

“Why did he agree to the treaty?”

“He wanted to end the conflict.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t love dolling out death.” She blinked, not expecting that answer. He didn’t come across as a  _ good  _ man.

“Tobirama told me that the Uchiha were on their last leg. Something about Madara losing some of his best men forced him to reconsider it.” Hashirama shook his head. “He said Madara loves war more than anything else.”

“It’s easy to love what you know. He would not have stopped fighting because he thought they were about to be defeated. He doesn’t know the meaning of defeat.” He said proudly, clearly remembering something specific. “Madara only stopped... because at heart he is an idealist.”

“He’s not content in the village.” She countered sharply, leaning back. Hashirama gazed at her and she toyed with a cup of water. “Don’t play coy brother, it’s clear he spends a lot of time wandering around as if he’s trying to understand why others feel for it in a way he doesn’t.”

She smirked, for some reason.

“No, that’s not it. Madara is a perfectionist. He only lives by his own standards and uses extreme measures in exacting his will. His biggest problem is that he tends to try and make others use his black and white manner of measuring things.” It was her turn to look perplexed. 

“How so?” 

“He encounters problems when other clans do not agree with his way of doing things or attempt to bring up new paths. He’s confrontational when faced with prideful opponents.” He didn’t need to say that is why he likely insulted her at their first meeting. 

“So he’s not used to working with others.” She tilted her head up, a sparkle in her eyes. 

“That’s a good way of putting it. But he can’t be faulted for trying. He just needs to feel like this village can become a family to him.” He raised his hand. “It’s just a matter of time and responsibility. Speaking of which, I was wondering if you would be interested in some.”

“You can be so impractical Hashirama.” She sniffed. 

He grinned, putting his head on his hand. “Have I said enough to be released from my defeat? My pride can’t take much more.” 

“That, my dear Hashirama, it’s because you never have faced anyone your equal. Until now.” She said with a wink. His laugh echoed through the halls of the Senju.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please compliment my word checker. It works hard for it's money.


	7. Scroll 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, only a bajillion more to go. If I keep editing at least one a day, eventually we'll get there, right?

Hayo may have been dubbed a personal secretary from hell, Madara assured him, but he was more qualified than he appeared. One of the few of the rising generation that didn’t perish in his age group, as well as an adept ninjutsu caster, he was also one of the few Uchiha men not cursed with a raging dislike of other clans. Yes, his parents had been killed, as well as his siblings, and many aunts and uncles, but he knew that the Uchiha had long given as good as they got.

So when the village treaty was created, he decided to make it a personal duty to ensure its success. Even if it meant dealing with his perpetually grumpy, taciturn Clan Leader. That’s why he accepted the job initially, and some days, it was the only thing keeping him around. Respecting Madara Uchiha was a given, but even the rest of the Uchiha Clan were starting to feel that perhaps he was not fit for leading the Uchiha Clan  _ in  _ the village. He was their God of War, but what was his use in times of peace?

The clan was waiting with bated breath.

Hayo hoped he didn’t come across as second-guessing his Clan Leader. After all, it was an honor to learn first-hand how effective Madara ran the clan, even without Izuna. All function, little form, and missing something without the younger brother. There was no more elasticity, no boundary to soften the Lord of the Uchiha enough to inspire devotion as Izuna did.

Even to himself, Hayo’s knock sounded hesitant against the smooth wood of the Clan Leader’s door. He only entered hearing the familiar approval.

Madara was at his large desk, looking out the window, his arm outstretched with a large falcon resting on it. Papers lay in neat piles across the desk, showing stern practicality. The bird may have stared him down with a superior look, but its sharp talons were resting lightly on his blue sleeve, careful not to scratch the master.

“You called, Clan Leader?” Hayo said, bowing.

Madara raised his other hand, smoothing the feathers of the bird, letting the creature lean into his embrace. 

“Go tell Saburo that the outlying Uchiha strongholds are going to need to be checked soon. These numbers for supplies are far too extravagant for the needs of the clan.” He drawled, not bothering to look over.

“Shall he go, my Lord? The examination for the Land of Fire is coming up.” 

Madara nodded, back straight as a rod, and Hayo committed the moment to memory. He had to recite it exactly to Saburo, sure the older man would check that he was being precise. 

“No, but tell him I want to talk to him personally. He can leave counting our own storage for later.” Madara let his hand go, and the bird cooed. Hayo was struck that Madara was treating him like he was a messenger Hawk. Had he displeased him again? Sweat formed at the base of his back, hoping this was all Madara needed.

“Yes, Clan Leader.” He said quickly. Hayo  _ almost  _ made it to the door before his hopes were crushed into tiny pieces. 

“Hayo.” Crap. A direct call-out was never good. It was either  _ boy  _ or  _ brat. _

“Yes, my Lord?” He turned, bowing.

“On your return, I want an accounting from you, about your relationship with the Senju girl.” Hayo’s cheeks turned bright red, and he did his best to stop shaking. 

“Of course, Clan Leader.”

\--X--

Even with her hair tied back, dress hiked up, and dark shadows daring to form under her eyes, Sayuriama dared look pretty. Mito, despite her experience and knowledge that her future sister-in-law was not quite aware of what sort of effect she had on people, couldn’t help the stab of jealousy. Only Sayuriama could cook rice at five in the dawn hours and look like an ethereal princess.

It didn’t take her long to see Mito, waving her in.

“Goodness, you’re early,” Sayuriama noted, setting a stick in the fire. Her grin widened. “Thinking of my darling Hashirama? Or are you secretly returning from a rendezvous?”

Mito scoffed, knowing reacting with embarrassment was a good way to ensure Sayuriama’s continued mockery.

“Hardly. I had to go meet with the Uzumaki runner to send mail. He only passed by for an hour.” 

“Dreadful.” Sayuriama grinned.

“Yes.” Mito put a hand on her hip. “Pray, tell me, why are  _ you _ in the kitchen at this hour?” Sayuriama paused from doling out rice, a moment of frustration appearing. As a gesture of goodwill, Mito moved next to her, overseeing her progress. She was making bento, it seemed. Sayuriama took the napkin, wiping her face with a rather smug grin.

“Lunch for my brothers.”

“There’s three here. And Tobirama’s traveling.” Mito raised a brow, knowing Sayuriama knew this. He had told them all at the same time two days ago, during dinner.

“Hmm, my mistake. Oh well, I’m sure someone else will appreciate it.”

“Oh?” Sayuriama didn’t pause.

“You know, Mito, it feels like I don’t see you much anymore.” The older woman frowned at her counterpart's change of topic. 

“I have been quite busy with the treaty negotiations. I’ve heard you have as well.”

Sayuriama once again avoided the question. “Does that include a wedding date to my dear eldest brother?” Mito put her fingers to her mouth, red spilling over her face only a shade lighter than her hair. 

“ _ Sayuriama _ , always assure walls have ears in a shinobi house,” Mito said, very flustered.

But Sayuriama rolled her eyes, wiping some of the food off her face. “I doubt my brother is listening to your every move, especially when he’s already at training.” 

Mito frowned.

“You should really be more polite to me,” She put a hand to her forehead, “Who was the wonderful person who would sneak with you places? Help you get some of those less accessible scrolls?” Sayuriama’s eyebrow twitched. Mito was always so  _ devious _ . So hard to fool.

“Mito…”

“What about those nights you would  _ sneak _ out?” Sayuriama flinched. “Hm, then maybe you shouldn’t mention my future marriage so casually.” Mito sniffed.

“Come on Miro, it’s obvious!” Sayuriama drawled.

“I am being careful. If the man you want to propose knew he was being manipulated by a woman, he would no doubt run as far as possible. They can't help it, their pride won't let them.” Sayuriama’s mouth opened, then closed.

“How do you suggest a woman lures a man in such a manner?” She asked thoughtfully.

Mito’s brows shot up, arms unfolding. “Do you have an...  _ interest _ ? In a specific man?” Sayuriama stuck her tongue out, hands busy shaping onigiri.

“Ha. Don’t act like you don’t talk to Tsunada.”

Mito smirked. “Perhaps, but you know she doesn’t give me  _ details _ . She is being a bit too faithful to a welp like you. No more denying. Now tell me.” She hadn’t known the older Senju women for very long, but the fact Tsunada could control Sayuriama (To a degree) and had her trust made Mito trust her. And Mito wasn’t an easy person to gain trust with. But she  _ needed  _ to know. The rumors were flying.

Sayuriama lifted her rice covered arms, her face flat.

“I was too obvious doing this, wasn’t I?”

“Very much so. We all know you don’t enjoy cooking. And you’ve been dipping out nightly.” Mito winked and Sayuriama scrunched her nose. Her messy hands raised in defense.

“Ew, no. All I do at night is an  _ attempt _ to train, and you know it.” Mito smirked. She did know, but It was nice to tease the kid. 

“Alright then, I’ll take your word then. Eventually, you’ll crack and reveal who this mystery man is.”

“Only Hashirama is allowed to be that gullible. But by all means, stay, help me make lunch for my silly older brother.”

“Do you think that even the Uchiha’s will be training?” Mito said, innocently. The glare she received was magnificent.

“Is there a particular reason you’re asking?” Sayuriama said, unimpressed.

Mito smiled, knowing full well for whom the girl had gotten up early to make food. But Mito couldn’t let her just show up around half-naked men training  _ alone _ . Hashirama would be mortified. Mito could save the day and help both siblings.

“How considerate. I’m sure the Uchiha clan will be  _ grateful  _ for your appearance. A real show of trust.” Sayuriama flushed a bit.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that we can finally help make amends Uchiha, that’s all.” Sayuriama’s face went beet-red, and to divert herself she took out another bowl and poured rice in it, hiding away.

Mito rolled up her sleeves, pleased she could still get Sayuriama. She had a feeling those days would soon be over. “You know, the secret to a man’s heart is through food.” 

For a while there was quiet in the kitchen, the usual servants relegated to a day off.

“Is it possible to fall in love at first glance? Even if you should hate the person?”

Mito didn’t pause.

“Be careful of calling  _ lust _ love. Passion, infatuation, butterflies and the thrill of a chase are not love worthy of your pursuit. Love is steady, faithful, warm, and comforting. A warm summer day, not a flame in the midst of winter.” She was focused on her hands and what she was doing, and put the rice onigiri she picked the bowl up and put it in the Koshiki to steam over the Umigamero.

Sayuriama gave the counter a good wipe. 

“How do you fall out of lust?” Sayuriama questioned. “Ignore it? Pretend it’s not real?”

“Move on. Find someone else-”  
“What if there is-” Sayuriama paused, taking a breath to smooth her talking. “ _-there_ _is_ no other.”

“Perhaps you haven’t met enough men then. Or have given them a chance.” Mito picked up a towel and washed her hands, giving her opinion carefully. She walked over to Sayuriama, who was standing at the stove. She turned her around, and put a hand to her face to lift it, and noted how frustrated she looked. 

“I fear, for once, I need to take what I am given” She looked desperately at the food she had made like she knew she was on a fool’s errand.”

“Then you may learn the painful way.” Mito smiled at the girl’s face. “If you are too impatient.”

Confusion. “I know.” She was between a rock and a hard place. Sayuriama took a deep breath, nearly falling as she used all her nerves to bolster her confidence. Mito put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t overthink it.” Mito counseled. “You’re too young for worries like these. Enjoy the flirting and the moments. Just don’t assume this is all there is. It’s clear you are infatuated.”

“ _ Infatuated _ ?” Sayuriama grinned breathlessly. “I hope.”

“Yes, it usually comes in hard the first time. In your case, since you’ve never been particularly impressed with a boy, it’s probably a strange thing.” Sayuriama looked a bit dreamy.

“It’s... nice. Did you have it?” Mito blushed.

“Of course. How do you think I fell in love with your brother?” Mito said quietly, turning to begin rolling more rice balls. “Alright, so what are you making?”

“Sticky rice balls, oyakoden, and inarizushi.” Sayuriama snapped back, confidence beaming.

“At least some things never change,” Mito smirked.

Sayuriama winked approvingly.“I wanted to make it myself.”

“Ah. How domestic.”

“Shut up. I  _ will  _ tell Hashirama, Mito.”

\--X--

The training fields were especially loud today. 

Metal clanged loudly as a giant battle fan fiercely swiped away the thin katana that was thrust into its path. Gloved, skilled hands twisted the said sword, making it fly in a loop before deeply embedded itself in the tough dirt nearly a kilometer away. 

Hashirama jumped back as Madara rushed him, hand signs flying, wood erupting from the earth. It only took Madara seconds to retaliate, the ground covered with fire. Both jumped back, eyes dark. His Sharingan didn’t miss a second, the fan raised to batter him again. 

Then, the bell rang. 

Madara retreated, clenching his giant weapon and raging to hit the smiling shinobi across from him. Irritation filled him. They would have to continue later. 

“Lunchtime, eh?” Hashirama approached him, his stupid smile still plastered on his face.

Madara didn’t reply, his blood still simmering. Instead, he looked down at the field of men, most packing up from training below. He always found it nearly impossible to unwind with such a short training session and forced his desire to continue deep, deep down. He knew his glare kept the men kept their distance, only a few daring a glance at Hashirama as if to invite him over. The few Uchiha there knew if their clan leader wished, he would join them. 

But this was the routine while they tested the new clans moving to  _ The Village Hidden in the Leaves _ . 

He and Hashirama had very different styles of deciding where best to use these new skills. Hashirama was always talking to them, discussing their lives and training. He wanted to  _ see _ them put their best foot forward. They jointly hosted these gatherings to promote Konoha becoming one village and not the several distinct clans that would compete for dominance. 

“Iro Yamanaka seems to be quite close to Chio Akimichi and Hiki Nara,” Hashirama said, turning to him.

“The Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi Clans were quite close before the treaty. It makes sense to place them jointly as teams.” Madara replied coolly. He had already put in the suggestion to the joint council of elders that were currently handling many business matters. 

“Then we should put their children on the same team, when we get the squads organized,” Hashirama declared.

Madara shrugged, feeling like it didn’t matter at that moment.

“We’ll bother with that  _ If _ we get that wealthy daimyo to agree to fund us.” He said sharply, a bad mood running through his words. “The Uchiha clan is… more than happy to contribute to the village fund, but even we will run dry without his support.” The Uchiha was well off from their clan holdings, maybe even a little more so than the Senju, but it was taking a toll on the Uchiha’s checkbook. Madara thought wistfully that he had not sent a knife through the fat old man’s gut it may have been more efficient. That sickly child of his would be easy to bully into action.

“We sent another messenger,” Hashirama said lightly, acknowledging and discarding Madara’s bad mood by forcing him into a conversation. He hoped that Madara would open up and stop angrily gazing at men he was trying to convince to join them.

“I doubt he will be so easy.” Madara drawled. “Stubborn, but intelligent enough to know he can wait us out.”

“Yes. I figured we won’t get anywhere without luring him here and impressing him. That’s why I’ve informed him that my younger sister is in Konoha.” Hashirama sounded quite embarrassed at his words, and one look assured Madara this was the case. His eyes narrowed, and Madara quieted his heart since it decided to  _ treacherously _ beat faster. Was Hashirama  _ bribing _ the feudal lord with his sister? 

“Oh?” He said as casually as he could. He had not once approached Hashirama about the girl, nor given any indication he cared, and he wasn’t about to now. That seemed a little out of character for him. Hashirama raised his shoulders, clearly feeling awkward bringing it up.

“Well, it was actually Tobirama.”

Ah, that explained it. Leave it to Tobirama Senju to use his beautiful sister as bait. To imagine he would actually marry her off for political gain probably wasn’t a far stretch.

“Well then.” He said drily. “I hope Little Sayuriama is as steely as her brothers.”

Hashirama whipped around, so fast that Madara thought he might be attacking him. But the large offensively smug smile on his lips clued Madara into his own mistake. He swore.

He had inadvertently used a very familiar term of endearment, her name! So much for acting aloof.

“ _ Little Sayuriama _ , Madara? I didn’t realize you were... informal.” Hashirama said smugly, leaning in. He almost lost an arm jabbing at Madara’s shoulder.

The Uchiha lord turned his head away from his counterpart. “ _ Hashirama _ .” The said man smiled wider at Madara’s dangerous tone, put a hand behind his head, giving a laugh. “Your sister had been following me for  _ weeks _ .” 

“I noticed that she and Tsunada were disappearing in the mornings.” Hashirama grinned. Madara raised an eyebrow to look at the casual way he was taking it in stride. Was Hashirama  _ encouraging  _ this poor behavior?

“Do you like her?” 

Madara threw his fan at Hashirama, but he dodged niftily. He was  _ definitely  _ encouraging her. Hashirama again laughed. “So she does have a crush on you!”

“ _ Hashirama. _ ” His voice was all menace. Madara turned to him, face giving him the darkest glare he could muster to mask his embarrassment. Hashirama finally raised his hands, reconciling. 

“No insult meant, she’s more audacious than I anticipated! And you  _ do _ have a scary face.”

“ _ Senju.” _ He raised his fan yet again, but Hashirama waved him down, making Madara’s face crease and eyes narrow. Surely he would one day kill this dumb man. Hashirama brushed his dark hair back over his shoulder and stretched out his arms, sensing his teasing had gone a bit too far.

“Fine fine, I’ll stop. But look what we have here! If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, I believe a few lovely ladies are coming our way with lunch. Would you believe it? Sayuriama herself to set things straight.” Hashirama said, quick as a fox moving to the side to avoid Madara’s swipe. 

Madara sneered, turning just enough to see if Hashirama was lying. His discomfort deepened when he realized he wasn’t joking, as three very feminine figures approached, clearly distinguishable from the clansmen in their vibrant kimono.

If that weren’t enough to designate who came, the general change in the men’s demeanor would have done it. Most straightened up, visibly and graciously welcoming the rare sight of a made-up woman on training grounds. Kunoichi were never so kind to return their cat-calls. Not that they’d dare do anything so disrespectful to the Senju Princess or Uzumaki envoy, especially while Hashirama was near. 

Madara’s black eyes narrowed as he took in the figure on the right, with long dark hair. Her soft pink kimono made her look like a floating flower of some spirit, and he cringed that he had the ability to think such sappy thoughts. While the Uzumaki woman nodded graciously at the men, the little Senju never once turned to acknowledge a single one. Soon, he made out that familiar doe-eyed look of innocent charm she projected with such experience.

This little Senju enjoyed her games. He turned away, pretending he couldn’t see such a pathetic display, and that such simple-minded flirting didn’t bother him. He was feeling a bit worried at the glare that the Tsunada woman was giving him.

Hashirama came back to him, hand on his shoulder. Madara glared at it, shaking it off to no avail.

“It seems like she brought an extra lunch.”  _ Great _ , Madara sneered. “I wonder if she knows Tobirama was taking care of academy business.” Hashirama put a finger to his lips, innocently.

Hahaha. So the joke was on him.

“ _ Hm _ . They seem to be ruining your practice Lord Hashirama.” Madara said, trying to talk about anything else, to get the focus off the women. “What a distractible lot of children.” If he was lucky, Hashirama would turn for long enough to let him male a tactical retreat. But the man’s arm never moved, and Madara’s pride wouldn’t let him beg for mercy. 

“Yes, we’ll get no work done with Sayuriama around,” Hashirama said with humor and headed off before Madara could hit him. He turned, giving him a cheeky wink. “Lunch break should be extended.” If this was Hashirama’s way of trying to get a nap, he would be sorely disappointed when Madara stabbed him in the back.

“It seems so.” 

Madara turned, issuing orders to the men who snapped to attention. Summarily dismissing them for an hour and with a threat to be better prepared on their return. It took a little pushing to get them all to leave, more than a few making moon eyes at the women who stood to the side who were talking under their breath.

Madara turned, ready to make his goodbye to Hashirama, only to discover he had been duped. A box appeared in his face, and he shifted all of his weight to his back foot, kunai in hand. 

“Lord Uchiha.” From beyond the box, Madara saw Hashirama who had begun a conversation with the Uzumaki woman. His stomach dropped, and his face turned to stone.

“Lady Senju.”

The box lowered, revealing the young woman. Demure and lovely, he could now see that her pink kimono held peach cutouts that were embroidered down its length. Green leaves wrapped around her waist, patterned in an ever richer green obi that tied in a fantastic knot at her back. She wore no jewel, and no koal but such simplicity only enhanced her beauty. Her long hair, slightly pinned up with a few gleaming in rivulets down her shoulders framed bright eyes and lips meant for longing.

Pink cheeks indicated she was feeling some sort of shame, but much like before she hid it magnificently with a dashing smile and low voice. 

“Would you care to join us? It seems like I made an extra meal.” 

Then she leaned forward, offering the meal. Which coincidently, shifted her kimono, revealing the long line of her neck, as well as the swell of her shoulders and chest. Now  _ that  _ was a tempting reason to stay. He wasn’t sure if she had down it on purpose, but there was a look in her eyes, that spoke miles. 

Madara pushed his own dark hair back, as well as his flustered feelings at such a bold proposition when he saw Hashirama’s smug grin. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you.” He said, arms folded. A direct answer was best, not even she could mistake. 

Then her hand snagged his sleeve. Her fingers were slim, and her grasp was laughable. He could shake her off in a moment. Toss her into the far treeline for such a daring action. But he didn’t, electricity sparking from where she touched. And she stared him straight in the eyes doing so, shorting his thinking.

He stopped dead, heart skipping. 

To be frank, he had  _ no  _ idea how to deal with this sort of thing.

Sayuriama smiled coyly, raising a brow at his stoned-face reaction.

“That would be a shame.” She pouted. Any other woman would look ridiculous doing it, but her’s made him feel woozy.“I worked very hard on this. Sticky rice balls,  _ oyakoden _ , and  _ inarizushi _ ? Would you consider, for my sake?” 

Madara couldn’t stop the uncomfortable smile, a teardrop forming. What a stubborn sister Hashirama had. He glanced to her forearm, luminescent skin revealed in the shady sunlight, forgetting how to speak. Only by glancing at her old woman keeper did he keep his train of thought.

He realized, at this point, he was trapped. Between syrupy sweet smiles and Hashirama’s own smirk, he couldn’t help but sigh. She had been more perceptive than he realized. 

Hashirama wouldn’t let him live it down he let his girl-sister chase him away so easily. 

“I would dislike offending another Senju.” He said flatly to the young woman as he accepted the meal. “It seems you are very much a weapon.” He looked rather pleased with his words, though they weren’t a compliment.

“Oh?”

Putting on his most apathetic face, he dug his fan in the dirt then gracefully sat on the grass. And just to spite Hashirama, sat next to Sayuriama. Tsunada was forced to sit back near the other couple, and she fiercely glared at him. 

He was feeling quite like the odd man out.

With the bentos passed out, Madara took a long look at the meal and was surprised to find it well prepared. Looking with subtle humor at the meal, he saw Hashirama give him a quirked brow, knowing how particular Madara got. And Hashirama said  _ he _ couldn’t let any provocation go unanswered.

Sayuriama grabbed two pairs of two chopsticks, fumbling and almost dropping them, but managed to pass one over before she did. The rough delivery allowed her fingers to lightly touch over Madara’s own gloved hands but it seemed like this wasn’t on purpose, though it did affect him more than he was willing to admit. A sharp tinge of desire filled him, and he adjusted his position to lean away from her.

Mito and Hashirama turned to one another, almost shutting the rest of their group out as they spoke in low tones. Madara knew Hashirama was using him as a chaperone of sorts, to court the Uzumaki. He raised an eyebrow, turning to the lunch.

Tsunada abruptly gasped. 

“Forgive me! I forgot the cups! I’ll go get them immediately!” She popped up and ran, presumably to a nearby market. Hashirama and Mito went back to talking, leaving he and Sayuriama in contemplative silence. She didn’t break it like he thought she would, just seemed to leave  _ him  _ to decide if they would converse. She was clever, he admitted, to do so. He couldn’t be cross if she didn’t move to converse with him. Was it her way of gauging interest, or did she figure she was pretty enough to forgo?

And, once again, he was filled with that strange desire to connect and speak with her, despite his poor mood. He was rather interested in knowing a bit of what had formed her.

“Lady Senju” Madara’s voice was low, as to not attract attention. Sayuriama’s eyes flickered to him, chopsticks pausing.

“Please just call me Sayuriama,” She said frankly. “It’s so tiresome to hear titles.”

Madara raised an eyebrow at the tone. Sayuri put her chopsticks down, settling the box on the grass neatly. 

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. If I don’t give you a choice, you can’t feel guilty.” She looked over as if she dared him to counter her. Madara felt a slight heat on his face at such a command. 

“Well, well... I’ve learned my lesson then. However, I can only do so if your brother gives permission. Hashirama.” The said brother gave a slight nod, his grin already needing fewer teeth Madara decided. And for Sayuriama, he was going to give her a taste of his vitriol for putting him in that position.

“And there, now it’s  _ appropriate _ !” He mocked rather sardonically. “Little Sayuriama, you’re now a sister to me.”

She frowned, giving him a critical look as though he were the uneducated youth. “ _ Sister _ ?” She said carefully with a breathy manner that ghosted hearts away. He steeled his own. She smirked at him and he tilted his head.  _ What a fickle creature.  _ “I’m  _ not  _ your sister, Lord Uchiha.”

He deadpanned. 

“Of course. A turn of phrase. I wouldn’t say otherwise of my comrades.” She sighed, giving Mito a conspiratory look which the Uzumaki looked gracefully away. The older woman quickly said something of how she enjoyed the woods, prompting Hashirama to stand and offer her a hand.

“We’re going on a walk.” He said to the other pair. Mito smoothly rose, looking surprised as a woman scheming does. “Will you be okay Madara, if I leave this silly girl with you for a while?” 

Madara frowned at Hashirama, nerves grating. Sayuriama turned her nose up at her brother, slighting him for calling her such. Mito gave Sayuriama a small look as if trying to say something, but the two walked away before Sayuriama turned back, gazing at him.

“… sister, you say?” Sayuriama put down her food, pulling her glorious brunette strands behind her shoulders as if he had greatly offended her. “How rude.”

“It was meant as a joke.” He couldn’t help feel a bit stricken that he had so quickly gotten in her disfavor, though he knew people didn’t realize he could joke. “I know you are a lady, child of Senju.” 

“Back to the beginning?” She huffed as if he was clueless, not understanding she was being cryptically and maddeningly confusing. It was his turn to be prodding as she turned away as if she would now ignore him. It was as if he had promised her something, and reneged. 

He was so bothered that instead of walking away, he  _ asked.  _

“What do you mean?” Madara asked, genuinely interested. He  _ had _ to figure this girl out. He didn’t understand her, and it was driving him mad.

“Stop looking down on me.” Sayuriama narrowed her eyes at him, and he folded his arms. It was dismissive, and he knew she was close to discarding him. And he found once again that he didn’t want that.

“You asked me to lunch, yet  _ you _ are the one not talking. How am I looking down on you?” He drawled, unimpressed by this display.

“You assume that I’m childish.” She said politely, picking up her food. “And snobby.” That garnered a bit of a smile on his end.

“Yes.” He smirked at her glare. “You are proud, boarding on arrogant. But as a sister to your brothers, and as a beauty I suppose, circumstance demands such an attitude. You have no skill in battle and less interest in politics. But you enjoy the notoriety of being near power. If I was to take a guess, this is your way of dealing with your vulnerabilities.”

She kept up her gaze, and he found that he very much liked how she dared look in his eyes. It was not out of disrespect, but rather like she was looking at him. Accepting him as he was.

“You assume I’m just a girl. One that men like you to just... protect.” She said sharply. “How disappointing that you perceive me so.”

“You are young.” Madara agreed. He saw her clench her chopsticks despite the fact he was much older than her. “Unformed and untried. You are teasing with something you don’t fully understand.”

“A girl yet? Despite being over nineteen?” She chimed, looking more and more irritated.

Madara nodded, glad to confirm she wasn’t as young as he had feared, but not bothering to deny that she was the picture of what he said. 

Juvenile, naive, unaware of the world. Eyes that radiated softness like a feather, with none of the reflexes of a warrior. Untouched tender flesh with no experience, lips that had never been breached by another man. She was too proud, too nervous behind that mask, to have done such a thing. His dark eyes traveled down her slim neck to her breakable collarbone. It would take less than two fingers to break it. He could destroy her, so easily, he knew. No woman should desire his attention knowing that.

But she had.

Five years older, and she would have been downright dangerous, and a real problem for him. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to resist  _ that  _ version of her. He folded his arms, closing in eyes as his head throbbed with an incoming headache.

For a girl who was always being watched it begged the question...  _ why had Hashirama left her with him? _

Sayuriama smiled bitterly, picking up a piece of chicken out of the Oyakodon bowl. She stopped with the morsel raised, and he glanced over. Her face was conflicted, trying to decide between something. She bit her lip, letting the plump flesh be gripped in a manner that caused him to feel overly hot, and he looked away.

There was no warning and he was finding it disturbing that he didn’t know how to anticipate her erratic actions.

Her hand was quick, dragging the meat down Madara’s cheek, leaving a sticky trail of sauce with that flash of dexterity he wasn’t aware she was capable of. It was so shocking to him that he merely stared in disbelief as the ooze of the sauce dripped down his chin. 

For anyone else, it would have resulted in a broken arm. But he didn’t feel the need to retaliate because as he turned to wreak vengeance, her finger smoothly rose to touch the sauce, hot as if she had left a fierce kiss instead of a joke. 

She grinned in the pleasure of her victory, leaning back. “Careful, my Lord Uchiha, I am told I am very childish and rather immature.”

Madara then realized three things. 

First, he doubted anyone had ever gotten near breaking that spirit.

Second, they were alone. Which wasn’t a problem until she took advantage by leaning in and licked the sauce on his face, her hand grasping his shirt.

Then she smiled, turning back to her food, almost as if nothing had happened and his hand stayed half-raised in shock. “Hm. It does taste like I thought it would.” Madara didn’t wonder if she was talking about the food or his cheek.

Third, she had been, all along, attempting to  _ seduce _ him.

_ Swear words raced in his head.  _

_ His little bird wanted to play a dangerous game.  _

Hashirama would never let him live it down-  _ his own pride  _ would never live it down. 

  
  
  
  



	8. Scroll 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, this one was more difficult than it should have been. I didn't realize how much needed condensing.

Madara Uchiha. 

He was the firm leader of the revived Uchiha Clan, the co-founder of The Village Hidden in the Leaves in the Land of Fire, and the sole possessor of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. 

And he was _very close_ to doing something he would regret.

If Hashirama had any inkling that Madara had even a single sentiment of goodwill for his sister, _he would never hear the end of it_. And if Hashirama found him enjoying his sister’s company, He would find the Senju making excuses to bring his sister to _everything._ Then Tobirama would really hate him, but there were some things he wasn’t willing to go through, even to hurt Tobirama. Not that Madara didn’t have any lost love for him, but he didn’t go around shoving his face in the dirt as he desired. Whether it was just the forbidden factor, which was quite appealing looking at it, or just the fact she was very, very beautiful, the proximity was maddening.

But if Hashirama discovered that he _kissed_ his kid sister, he would be very well within his rights to demand Madara marry her right then and there.

Then his entire life would be ruined.

The already cold Tobirama Senju may cause another war because he certainly had no desire to be related to the Uchiha. And the overall sentiment was shared within the Uchiha Clan. While there were those, mostly the very old and young who would approve, the girl would face endless opposition.

Not only that, there was the question of just what she was hiding. 

Why exactly was the Senju girl bearing one of the most potent sealing jutsu he'd ever come across, even in battle. _He had yet to discover what was under those seals she wore._

It was dangerous.

And that was _it._

Except...

Warmth filled him.

It was the tinge of what he recognized as happiness (something he realized he hadn’t felt since Izuna’s death) as well as the swelling of desire (which he didn’t remember as he never paid very much attention but for his own quick release). His stomach seized, the sense of intimacy thickening, the moment filling him with the most bizarre sense of _safety_. It filled him with that strange, renewed urge, that he had to protect this nymph at any cost.

With a strike, he realized he _liked_ the way this insignificant daughter of an enemy clan made him _feel_ . He was the only man that could do that and win her heart. He knew it was pathetic that it made him feel _strong._ She made him feel... _wanted_. 

_For once even the cold voice of Izuna in his head was replaced with... peace. A blissful nothing._

Good, happy, important, powerful.

Trusted. 

When had he become so insecure? 

His pride rankled at him. This girl, _Hashirama’s younger sister_ , had caused him to feel as hard as an upstart youth who was unbridled and untrained. 

...

But was this just another trap? 

He expected and had met, many times over, Senju women who openly hated him. Their clans had been fighting for decades, killing one another whenever possible. She should despise him like her clanswoman, yet she didn’t subscribe to their ideologies. Maybe she was just a naive fool. 

Except she didn’t seem so naive and foolish at the moment. Rather, she seemed overly confident due to her own previous successes. 

Madara didn’t blink as he let his Sharingan activate, gripping the bowl in his hands as hard as he could without cracking it. He was mildly impressed as she concealed the nervousness she was feeling, but he could tell her heart was pounding.

She was nervous. And still, she held the upper hand!

 _He_ was the one who was supposed to be imposing and seductive, not falling for some _teen_ just because she fluttered her eyes at him. For the love of the Gods, he was nearly thirty, compared to this girl who was a mere _nineteen_. He gritted his teeth. It was too wide a gap. She gazed steadily at him

But he still wanted her.

Heh.

Pathetic.

He couldn’t help but lean forward, just enough, for it to be considered permission granted. Her smile bloomed, filling her face, and he passingly noted she had slight dimples. Just what else did he not know?

He didn’t even _know_ her. She could be an assassin or be hiding a terrible secret. The seals may make her more beautiful than she truly was. He felt her breath at his neck, her hair on his shoulder. So willing to rile him up, all alone here, was she? So trusting, so kind, was she?

He couldn’t help but smirk. 

Then she leaned forward.

Reason fled him as her lips brushed his own, just for a mere second before retreating. 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Had he ever been kissed like this, or had such a simple kiss ever promote such an effect on a man? It was all he could do to remain still as death to repress the shutter of pleasure that ran through him. Had she known it would be so effective? Had she kissed anyone else? If she had, he would be sure to wipe him from the earth so he may be the only living being to say he enjoyed such a favor. But for anyone to witness such a scene would be beyond mortification.

He scanned the clearing, though it was physically painful to tear his eyes from her. Hashirama and Mito were still gone, and that watchdog Tsunada was nowhere to be seen or felt. 

He returned to her. It would only take a second to cure his lust. To show her that she was to think that was it. If she didn’t have the right idea, she would be chased off by his next kiss, and he would probably rarely see her. 

The thought hurt now, now after tasting her.

But her own face didn’t show the overthinking he was currently trying to deal with. Instead, she looked _frustrated,_ like he had disappointed her! 

As if she had the right to be frustrated! She _could not_ know that he was the one fighting a battle to restrain himself? To what did he owe this woman tempting his self-control so?

Surely then, that first kiss was only sweet because of its surprise! So just to make sure, he had to kiss her again, to ensure his disappointment. He didn’t factor in that if he wasn’t disappointed he may not let go but instead focused on the only reasonable explanation. His hands were spread deceptively behind him, fingers brushing the grass with all of the tension he was feeling. It would all go into that next kiss.

He gazed at the girl who pulled her hair back as if preparing for him.

She raised her long sleeves and rolled them up, revealing more skin than he should have been privy to, ever. It caused her kimono to slide off the back of her neck even further. 

_Madara took a ragged breath in._

_He was an Uchiha, the greatest clan in the world. He had mastery over himself, and no one, especially a young Senju woman, would tempt him._

_He was Madara Uchiha._

Then he turned to determined to either kiss or kill her.

  
  
  


_Madara remembered the old man. What had he said?_

_Oh yes…_

_Relieve that sexual tension._

_The old man probably wasn’t referring to releasing it on his young relation, on a training ground. How the old man would regret his foolish words if he knew._

\--X--

Sayuriama didn’t know what she was doing wrong. 

Mito had told her, the _MITO_ , had told her that no man could resist her if she was merely straightforward about her affections. 

Madara had raised his eyebrows. He had blinked at her teasing and went back to giving that staredown that was downright unsettling due to its unreadability. Swore saw them flicker once, but it was hard to tell. Like _she_ was going to attack him. His arms were braced and he was tense, the grass shredded around his fingers. 

She felt like she had been clear, so why then was there no wooing back? Was he truly impervious to all her charms?

Sayuriama bit her lip. What sort of an impenetrable being was he? Surely not, there must be another answer. Maybe he already had a lover. Hm. She hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he liked... _men?_ Not unheard of, but it would be something she never would have thought from a Clan Head. She did possess a single male friend in The Village of Whirlpools who enjoyed the favors with those of his own gender, but Madara didn’t seem much like him. But he had no wife... If that was the case, then she needed to reassess what she knew about men because his eyes had followed her, and he had flirted with her. 

If so, he had played her thoroughly. 

Except... he had let her kiss him. So was it possible that he was feeling... shy?

Perhaps he thought she was messing with him. She absolutely was, but she wanted him to mess with her back!

She blinked, realizing she had been locking in a fierce staring content, wearing her favorite look of intrigue. To try and lighten the mood, she gave a smile, and it hit her that she probably looked like she was _mocking_ him. This is why he probably activated his Sharingan.

Her heart sped up.

Nervousness flooded her, and she looked away for a moment, adjusting her clothes to make her feel less conspicuous.

If nothing happened soon, she was going to leave, and call it over and done with, forgetting Madara Uchiha. It possible he acted like he didn’t care because he didn’t want her to get close, and he was about to unleash a verbal lashing she may deserve.

But she had to at least try or she would always wonder if there was something to these feelings.

To them.

Sayuriama pushed her long sleeves up. It was so hot here. Her hair was also sticking to her neck. She had _told_ Tsunada that it was too warm to wear a kimono like this. She reached back, exposing her neck, trying to not be overwhelmed with the man next to her.

The hearty scent of sweat and dirt radiated off him. He had been training at some point, which she envied. He was a cut figure, good looking in all black. The heat seemed to have little effect on him, and his face didn’t change expressions. His eyes stayed lidded.

She shuddered visibly, those eyes like a flame, different from his normal onyx gaze. His arm came around, almost like a barrier, and she looked down, feeling almost buried in darkness. Black hair and clothes blocked light, and even the arm she looked at showed no weakness despite his weight shifting.

He leaned in, faces inches apart, and she bit her lip in anticipation.

Their noses touched for the slightest instant. There was the slightest breath on her face, and he used a gloved hand to pull her face up, to look at him. Sayuriama felt her cheeks on fire, her heart beating excitedly, lips parted as his face came in.

A breathless sound came out of her.

“Did you lose your voice, little bird?” He said huskily, his voice reaching that deadly timber of depth, all honey, and poison. She glanced up into his exotic eyes, black but not flat. They burned as if the entire depth of color resided in them.

She was filled with gratification that perhaps she hadn’t misjudged the situation, nor her allure.

No, this man simply wasn’t uninterested, nor not a heartless and unfeeling being, immune to emotion. If she were to guess, everything he felt reached to his core, creating deep furrows of emotion that created who he was. He was a black hole of emotion, and nothing escaped, only controlled by his iron will.

Oh, how that idea beckoned her with its wicked siren call. To be a part of him would be like kissing fire, and she wasn’t afraid of being burned. 

So she leaned in.

.

.

.

“Sayuriama!” Hashirama’s voice called out, from behind the tree line.

Sayuriama found herself thrust back, onto her side, hair flipped over in a tangled mess. It took more than a moment to calibrate and right herself, as well as to understand what had just happened. She turned her head and saw, nearly a yard away already, Madara retreating. His back was tense, his gait was purposeful, and everything was timed to be gone just as Hashirama would return. 

The girl was on her feet before she could think, rushing over to. She didn’t understand why her heart twisted, nor the pain. 

“Lord Madara-” He didn’t stop, only paused for a moment, face turning just enough for her to see the sneer that was in full force. 

“Lord _Uchiha._ ” He said cooly. “Is how you should address a Clan Leader, _Senju_ _girl._ ”

Her mind, brilliant in many situations, struggled to comprehend his switch from a flirting paramour to a cold enemy. So much so that she was left in her muddled state, confused like a child.

“Where are you going?” She demanded, arms crossing. The insinuation that he was unmannered and careless enough to leave her entirely alone where she could not defend herself was there. Even if Hashirama was close, he couldn’t just _leave._

He couldn’t just pretend like he wasn’t about to kiss her. _Again_. 

Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

But his pride seemed to be on full alert, and he turned to glare at her as he had the first time they had met. It didn’t have the same effect, but it did make her feel as it had. Like she was nothing, no one, and deserved to be ignored. That she was beneath him, and lower than the dirt under his sandals.

“It is none of your concern. Frankly, Senju, _you_ are none of my concern either.”

She stopped in her tracks. “I... I thought-”

He snorted.

“You _thought_?” He smirked and shame-filled her. “You thought because you’ve been following me like a pathetic little bitch that you are.”

“You were _messing_ with me.” She blurted out, much to her horror. Her cheeks turned red in shame and he laughed. It was like a dagger in her heart and her shoulders visibly slumped. Self-loathing cut her down more than he did. But he did a good job as well.

“Heh, _stupid brat_.” Madara drawled. “It was a mistake for you to think I was doing anything other than teaching you a lesson.”

She was shaking, and he raised a mocking eyebrow, lips sneering.

“Has no one ever told you how inadequate you are? Don’t mistake it, you have no way of gaining any worthy man’s attention, nor any position of influence. All those ideals, and look what you did. Looks like I was right.” 

She did her best not to sniff, or let any tears escape. 

She _would not_ cry in front of him.

Madara, with a quirk on his lips, delivered the killing blow.

“The only thing more despicable than a Senju is a _weak Senju_. Pathetic.”

.

.

.

Then he was gone, leaving her to digest the cruel words he had not spared her. 

Her hands shook as she fell forward, digging into the mused grass. Tears hit the ground as the shock made her shake, unknown feelings washing over. Rejection, guilt, mortification, sorrow, failure.

It turns out living in the Village had been a learning experience. A strangled sound garbled her throat, and she bitterly laugh-sobbed.

Well, he was right, wasn’t he?

The first man to see her for what she was, and it cut her pride to its roots. She had shown no direction, no inspiration, and had ended up lacking. Without her brothers, _what_ had she to offer? 

Fear filled her.

She would be dependent on her beauty, forced into a marriage, and as time destroyed her, would be forgotten. She was _weak_. 

Madara had seen right through her and cut her down as she deserved.

She couldn’t help the spiteful feelings that flooded her. Even the people she disliked her never said such cruel things. She had no experience dealing with being utterly despised and mocked.

It was agony.

Hashirama and Mito took just enough time for her to stop crying, though the pain certainly wouldn’t fade for several days. 

“Did Madara head off already? You must have given him quite the scare.” Hashirama put a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately shrugged it off. Mito, immediately, sensed the mood.

“Don’t bother me Hashirama. I can’t believe you left me with such a brute.” Sayuriama sneered, stepping forward. “Where’s Tsunada, I can’t believe she’s been gone so long.”

“Goodness sister, that temper. Did Madara say something stupid?” Hashirama laughed, totally tone-deaf to the situation. Mito tried to gauge how best to defuse Sayuriama’s mood but was too late.

Her sister turned on him, teeth bared, and he recoiled as if she was a demon.

“ _Never, ever EVER,_ mention that _Uchiha scum_ to me EVER again!”

Sayuriama’s dash wasn’t elegant, but it was purposeful. Hashirama’s arm did a poor job of stopping her as she pushed it away, passing him in a clear fit of rage.

Neither Mito nor Hasirama followed, stunned by such a fierce statement. It took them over three moments to recover. 

Mito came to her senses first, clearing her throat. It was just enough to bring Hashirama back from his shock.

“I- I- I Sayuriama- Wait!” He cried, too late because she was long gone. Mito shook her head, pulling him gently back and moving forward by herself.

“I’ll go. Where will she be at?”

“I think- Perhaps by the pond, or on top of the mountain.” 

Mito nodded, running off with surprising speed. Her kimono didn’t hamper her in the least, and at her disappearing figure, Hashirama couldn’t help the smile. 

“A prosperous proposal indeed. Already paying off.” He said aloud, then went back to the picnic, most of it unfinished. He sighed, formed a hand sign. A basket, made of wood, formed, and he put the leftovers inside, making to go back home. Tsunada would be devastated at the waste.

Even after he got home, and even after he delivered the bad news to Tsunada, who panicked and also nearly dropped the chopsticks in despair, he only had one thought.

“She didn’t fall once during that dash.” 

\--X--

It wasn’t a long run back to the Uchiha compound, but by the time Madara reached it, he was out of breath. Of course, one couldn’t merely appear in the compound, but he was one of the few who was capable of entering with no detection. The seals merely murmured as he dismantled them, hummed as they reappeared.

Hayo didn’t see him, and Madara did his best to avoid anyone who would question just why the clan leader had been reduced from a solid monolith to a shaking branch, a disaster of a man, and not anything as an _Uchiha_ should be.

Sweat poured down his face, matting his hair and soaking his clothes.

What was happening to him?!?!

_What had he done?_

A shuttering gasp ripped through him, as did shame and humiliation. He landed wrong, and pebbles scattered beneath his heel. A swear word slipped out as Hayo and whatever guard he was with turned, and their moods switched. 

“L-Lord Madara!” Hayo stuttered as both boys switched to bow to him, assuming he had arrived to punish them. He put up a hand, waving them down in an embarrassing fit of passivity. 

_Don’t ask don’t ask don’t ask-_

“Are you-” The other guard had noticed, but a hand slammed over his mouth. Hayo. For once, he could appreciate the boy. 

“Good day sir!” Hayo said. “I’ll let the Clan know you are not to be disturbed!”

He passed, unmolested. Others called for him, only to be cut down with a positively glacial look. The clan’s general mood felt the shift. 

He was in one of _those_ moods. 

“Lord Madar-” He gave one last fierce glare at a young boy who froze, widened his eyes, then burst into tears.

_Shit._

Madara flew past him, totally out of control.

He couldn’t control himself, much less the damage caused while he was in this state.

He was the same after Izuna’s death, but at least that was _understandable_ . He didn’t understand this and _refused to_ even try.

Perhaps that’s why things had turned out this way. After Izuna, he tended to surround himself with people who could never have understood him. If all he expected was business, that’s what he had to deal with. No relationships beyond the minimum. And bounds that broke created an agony that wouldn’t heal. 

He just... couldn’t.

That’s one thing about Hashirama that Madara _hated_ . He had everything. _Everything._

He had the ability to keep everyone close and get business done without those terrible feelings. He still had some family. His brother. His sister. Hashirama had _everything_ Madara had wanted.

He was always a step behind, always never enough.

_Always coveting._

And now, Madara wanted Sayuriama.

That stupid Senju had made him like this, and he hated her for making him remember what it had been like having his blood boil and limbs dance.

It was a soul aching process to discover those feelings he had forgotten.

Run, run, run.

_Run._

_NO!_

The door to his room slammed behind him, cracking. He fell to his knees, peeling his shirt off but it only helped for a moment.

Ridiculous. Absolutely distasteful. 

What the _hell_ was wrong with him?

.

.

.

His hands curled as they hit the floor.

Sick.

He was sick, he knew.

The Senju was a _disease_ , and he refused to wilt into nothing, from her mere kiss. He would win. The Senju couldn’t take _him._

 _Izuna laughed. I_ **_told_ ** _you so, Elder brother. They_ **_take and take and take_ ** _, those worthless Senju. They don’t let us have anything! She just wants to_ **_own_ ** _you!”_

Madara snarled at it, punching a hole into the wall of his room. His desire ate at him, threatening him to return to her and finish what _she_ started. He would be so pathetic looking, a disgrace, worse than a dog in heat. She would stand above him, perfection incarnate, a smirking gloat on her face.

_He may get another kiss, but-_

But she would win.

.

.

.

_He needed a cure._

He took a deep breath, removing his hand from the floor, his muscled arms straining in agony. This was not the time to lose focus. If he couldn’t focus on how to win, he just needed to look for the next step. 

He needed time, and space, to think. To regain his ground, to perhaps find an _Uchiha_ who would fulfill his needs. To leave and regain himself through other means. 

_Coward,_ Izuna’s voice from beyond the grave seemed to laugh and mock him, _You’ve become so pathetic!_ Madara didn’t realize that he had punched another hole in his wall until pieces of the clay wall hit his face. 

_Run._

In a moment of clarity, he decided.

He threw open his plain dresser, pulling out a new shirt and pulling it on. Throwing his hair bag he drew a rag over his face, hoping he was presentable enough to address several senior Clan Members. He needed to give exact instructions while he was gone. 

He’d even let that brat Ashura do something important for once.

Once prepared, he found Hikaku and Saburo in the main residence, gave his instruction, and didn’t breathe until he was miles from the village. He didn’t even remember how he got so far.

\--X--

  
  


Saburo folded his arms, looking intently at a large scroll open before him, and he bowed his thin head of hair, already feeling himself going balder. Whenever this Clan Leader gave instructions, he knew he was in for a headache. Madara, upon his return, would be sure to follow up on every detail.

He knew the long list before him indicating at the several sleepless nights directly ahead, though he was grateful that he hadn’t been asked to be the direct contact between Hashirama Senju. Hikaku was across from him, and by the look of the lines on his face, was feeling more than a little stressed. Neither could demand anything of the clan leader and frankly, from the look of the man, they weren’t sure he was quite his normal self ( _not that he had been since Izuna, Saburo thought before casting it away)._

But the way things stood, it seemed that he had been given most of the authority to manage things within the compound, ensuring finances, trade and supplies remained strong, and well as balancing the list of requests from members in the clan. He had no idea how one man did all of this, plus the negotiations, training, strategy, planning, and other tasks Madara did with such ease.

That’s probably why he had already poured a cup filled with the strongest wine the Uchiha possessed. 

“That boy will kill himself if he doesn’t take it easy.” Hikaku looked up, sighing at Saburo and watching him put a hand to readjust hair that was too far gone. Though he was one of the few men around Madara’s age, he knew he was no competition to the Clan Leader. Nor did he particularly aspire for any position of power. It was probably why he was saddled with the main responsibility of making final decisions and keeping troublemakers on their leases. He always did have a way with Izuna and was a favorite. 

“I can’t say I envy him,” Hikaku replied truthfully, not bothering to put any sort of emotion on his face.

“The Clan Leader has always been quick to do everything on his own,” Saburo responded, irritated. “He only trusted Izuna to watch his back.” 

“Can’t blame him. Not that I would trust Izuna, but there was no doubt that he and Madara had that unshakeable sort of bond.” Hikaku didn’t mince his loyalty. “The Clan Leader will adjust. He’s always been good at that.”

“Such devotion to Lord Madara. I can’t say I’m impressed with the way he’s handled things.” Both Saburo and Hikaku turned, the latter narrowing his eyes.

So it was Ashura, confidently standing by a rather nervous Hayo, lingering at the door. Saburo rolled his eyes. Nothing like a handsome young warrior to sow seeds of gossip about the Clan Leader. Hikaku knew Ashura had been busy farming all manner of doubt to bolster his position. 

“I heard he got rejected by that Senju beauty, and took off because she hurt his pride.” Ashura continued. “Not that I blame her. He probably scared her half to death.”

Hayo frowned, pushing Ashura out of the way to step forward.

“Quit gossiping about the Clan Leader and Lady Sayuriama. You’re just jealous because he didn’t give you the position of captain, and she asked _me_ to help her get to the top of the wall.

A headache formed on the back of Hikaku’s head, tension building. Saburo looked more amused at Ashura’s flustered denials but continued perusing the scroll before him.

“You boys got a reason to be here, or are you just annoying us because Lord Madara’s not here?” He said sharply. Ashura folded his arms, doing his best to sound offended.

“I’m just pointing out how distracted the Clan Leader has been.”

“ _Stop-”_

Hikaku raised a hand, stopping them.

“This is not the time or place. Hayo, just because you’re Lord Madara’s assistant doesn’t mean you should lose your emotions so quickly. Do you need additional training? Ashura, if you have a complaint about the Clan Leader, I am happy to write to him.” 

Both younger men paled, shaking their heads.

“Then leave, or I’m putting you on triple guard duty.” 

And just like that, they were gone.

Saburo raised a brow at Hikaku, impressed but not surprised. Hikaku just frowned, shaking his head as he returned to sitting quietly and stressing.

“The Clan Leader did seem very upset,” Saburo turned to Hikaku, after a thoughtful pause. “Is there any truth to the matter between him and the Senju?”

Hikaku silently considered the matter, opting for the truth so he could control it.

“I heard from some of the men they ended early due to the arrival of the Senju beauty, and that Madara was compelled to stay and have lunch with her, Hashirama, and some other Senju’s. Apparently, it’s the girl who has been following _him_.”

Saburo whistled, making the lines between Hikaku’s eyes deepen. 

“I doubt Lord Madara appreciated that. Not that I would mind.” 

“No, he likely didn’t.” Hikaku agreed drily. He hoped for a return to the quiet, but it was thwarted as Saburo turned down the last characters on the scroll, his eyes widening, mouth falling open. 

“Well, look at this.” He said rather smugly. 

Knowing he had no choice, Hikaku accepted the parchment. He went down the normal list of tasks, and only at the end did he catch what had thrown Saburo for a loop.

“Of all the things to request,” Hikaku muttered. “He should know that the women will be on this like flies to rotting meat.”

“I would never have imagined him to ask such a thing.” Saburo grinned, folding his arms. “But I guess he’s not getting any younger. It’s natural at this stage he would be looking for something... _more_.”

“Yui will be overjoyed. She thinks that the elders are planning on forcing Madara to accept her daughter as the next Clan Mistress.”

“Setsuna will be relieved,” Hikaku muttered. “It’s been hard on him to be the head of the shinobi guard, and thinking that if something happens...”

“I thought you were next in line,” Saburo said.

“Oh no, I would be Setsuna’s second in command if something happened, which I hope it never does.” He said earnestly. “We’re both very happy being quietly married, out of the spotlight.”

“Well, let’s keep this one between ourselves for the time being. Even if cleaning the Clan Mistress’s corridors is rather _exciting_. It could end up being just a test, to make sure we were paying attention.”

“Agreed. He creates problems for breakfast, but it’s just how he is.” Hikaku put the scroll down. “The Clan woman will be happy, as will many of the Elders. Specifically, Tajima will be very pleased. He knew Lord Madara was stubborn when it came to this _matter_. I’m sure he understands what the implications are.”

Outside the window, Hayo and Ashura had been pushing and prodding one another, trying their best to gain the better spot. But now they were quiet, taking in this new piece of information. 

“What is it?” Hayo mouthed, Ashura giving him a lofty look. 

“Hmph. It’s like you don’t listen to a single thing,” Ashura’s voice was soft as a feather as he mouthed back, “The _Clan Mistresses’ rooms_ are going to be _cleaned_.”

“Ok.” Hayo shrugged.

Ashura put his hand to his head like he was the densest creature on the face of the earth. 

“It seems as if the Clan Leader intends to _marry_.” He said almost imperceptibly with a snide look. 

Inside, Saburo and Hikaku continued.

“He has instructed that the main residence should be cleansed, a larger bed fitted,” Saburo inferred. “And the clan’s woman put on notice to prepare the winter wardrobe. So at the end of the year, it looks like. He’s not leaving much room for interpretation.” 

Hayo felt his stomach quiver, and his heart shrunk, “Lord Madara... _marry?_ A _woman?_ ”

The idea was foreign, and a bit off-putting. While there were plenty of women in the Uchiha that would gladly be the Clan Mistress, fewer liked the idea of dealing with the temperamental Clan Leader.

Hayo must have made a face.

“Indeed,” Ashura stated, not pleased. “Such a motion would inspire confidence, longevity... and an heir would solidify support within the clan.”

Saburo’s voice echoed.

“An Uchiha wife. That would chase that Senju girl off.” He joked, and a clink could be heard. He was probably raising his wine to take a large drink. Hikaku’s sigh confirmed that.

“We can only hope.” 

Hayo hoped as well, and he looked over to Ashura.

Ashura rolled his eyes as if he didn’t believe what they had heard. That was one rumor he wouldn’t be spreading, Hayo noted sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These Shinobi are drama queens


	9. Scroll 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to end up the best or worst thing I've ever done. Also, I've gotten way more into giving depth into the subplots because Hayo and Ashura are just hilarious to me.

The young woman sat at the top of the mountains, knowing that she was at one of those junctures Mito had mentioned.

She was not distraught, and the tears had long gone from her face. Instead, it was as if a thick blanket of exhaustion had fallen over her. She was merely tired.

And she realized, it had not been just today that she had been carrying it. 

She sighed, a hand under her chin, looking out over the valley, finally alone as she felt. She did not linger over sorrow well, which may have been due to growing up with Hashirama whose mood swings were legendary in the clan or the cold Tobirama who did not tolerate emotional displays. Even living with priestesses tucked away at the Uzumaki shrine, she was expected to adhere to a rigorous schedule that left no time for emotional displays.

She was frustrated and hurt by Madara, but even deeper, she realized she was aimless. It had left her vulnerable and easily directed by what-(or who)-ever was near.

She took a deep breath, willing for something, anything, to give her meaning. 

To prove she wasn’t just important due to things she had no control over. Pathetic, vulnerable, _useless._

Weak.

It always led her back down the _same_ frustrating path. The clang of metal, the smell of salt and blood, the sight of flying weapons. The backs of men who never returned. The only thing she had ever wanted to do was fight, next to her brothers, and she had been forbidden that. Hashirama and Tobirama would never change their minds.

_It’s dangerous._

_You know why we can’t do that._

_Don’t ask again._

_If they discover… they’ll hate you._

_You would be called a monster._

_Weak._

“I am not just… a weak girl that needs protection.” She said angrily, putting her head in her hands. “So why haven’t you let me _prove it.”_

_Because you’ll die…_

_And take us with you._

Her shoulder slumped, and she laid down, exhausted of emotion and chakra.

\--X--

When Mito reached her, on the top of the mountain, she was only mildly surprised to see the beauty sitting in the dirt ( _In that expensive kimono, kami forbid_ ) taking a nap. Mito couldn’t help drily wonder if Sayuriama had chosen the spot that was half-concealed by foliage, or it was just a lucky accident. 

The great expanse of the city lay beneath them, busy with people hurrying for midday chore of one kind or another. While Mito, examining the tired face of the girl, would have liked to let her sleep, had spent long enough in the sun to push down feelings of sympathy.

She really should know better than to run off by this point.

Mito knelt, placing a hand on her shoulder, and shook it. Sayuriama’s eyes opened slowly, unsurprised by her appearance. Instead of getting up, she merely let them half close and gazed towards the sky.

“We need to get back. Hashirama is probably a mess.” Mito said, trying her best not to sound pushy. Sayuriama already knew that Mito didn’t put up with her attitudes, nor would let her mope in silence. So when she didn’t answer, Mito’s gaze steeled, and her voice gained some heat. “What happened?” She demanded.

Sayuriama closed her eyes, then slowly sat up. She put her hands to her face, rubbing it in a way that made Mito wince. 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Sayuriama drawled.

“You’re the one who stomped off, so don’t project onto me, thank you.” Mito snapped back, tugging at her kimono. “Tsunada is going to kill you for treating your things so shabbily.”

Sayuriama shrugged.

“I don’t even like wearing them anyway.” She did, however, rise. But she didn’t move to go to the trail home, gazed down at the city with something akin to incomprehension.

“You don’t like a lot of things,” Mito said. “So was it Madara Uchiha who set you off?”

“No, the tree.” A cynical look. “YES, of course, it’s Madara Uchiha!” She walked to the edge of the cliff, arms crossed. 

“I suppose it was only a matter of time till Madara Uchiha finally insulted you enough to make them count,” Mito replied. 

Sayuriama rolled her eyes.

“He told me that I am, among other things, _weak._ ”

Mito raised a brow, knowing that the insult dug more than it would have looked. Of all things, Sayuriama feared, was being weak. Uncontrollably weak.

Mito put a hand to the diamond mark on her forehead, a common habit when she was thinking of what best to say. “What did you say to him?”

“I’m not always at fault.” Sayuriama glanced over, sarcasm thick. “For you’re information, we were getting along rather well for most of lunch.”

Mito knew she wasn’t going to get a detailed explanation, no matter how much she asked. But she was getting a general feel for what may have happened, paired with their previous conversation. The sinking in her gut was an indication that if she was right, it may be worse than expected.

“I wouldn’t take anything he says too hard.” She gently said, hoping a softer approach may wean answers.

“He called me a bitch.” Sayuriama turned away, and Mito did her best not to express just what she wanted to say.

“He doesn’t really like people,” Mito said doing her best not to trash the Uchiha. The things she did for Hashirama, sometimes, amazed even her. “And you don’t have to see the man very often. Put him from your mind-”

Sayuriama stood, messy hair streaming down her back. She turned to the red-haired woman, frustration written all over her face, irritation clear. She knew Mito was fishing for information.

“You don’t understand! HE…” She took a deep breath, “I _want_ to see him.”

Mito froze, shocked that Sayuriama had just admitted it so freely.

Sayuriama had never expressed interest in any man she had come across, and hardly ever revealed what exactly she was feeling. Though she wasn’t a shinobi, the influence they had formed her in this way. Mito’s surprise lent her an unusual forwardness.

 _Madara Uchiha._ That explained a lot. He was not an easy man to like, much less have your first crush on. Suddenly, all the advice she had given the girl seemed like a good way to get killed. 

“You mean to say…” She breathed deeply, “...that the man you have been trying to impress is _Madara Uchiha_?” 

Stubborn silence, and a face that refused to deny it. 

Mito a hand to her head. “Well, no wonder you didn’t tell anyone. All those looks at lunch for this? Oh Sayuriama, those tricks are for men, not... monsters.”

Slowly, almost dangerously, the young woman turned back to Mito.

“Mito.” Sayuriama’s cold tone, for once, caused her the desire to shiver. “Don’t _ever_ use that word in front of me.”

Mito knew better than to disagree or apologize or amend. So instead she moved to a different point.

“Sayuriama, you know I didn’t mean it like that. But… _Madara Uchiha_ was up until a year and a half ago, your clan’s fiercest enemy. He’s killed hundreds of your clansmen, and in return, the Senju wreaked havoc on his. Despite the high ideals of ‘joining clans’ and other lofty goals that Hashirama may have spouted for you, it doesn’t change the fact that you two are _enemies._ ”

Sayuriama looked away, taking a step back from the cliff.

“I’m aware.” She finally said. “I knew it was a fool’s wish. I knew I would regret it. But I had never failed before.”

Mito nearly sighed in relief but instead folded her arms into her kimono. If Sayuriama acknowledged this, the battle was over. 

“It’s better to learn your lesson now, rather than having walked down a path of no return.”

And so, judging the seriousness of the situation, Mito did end up letting Sayuriama sit in the sun for a few more minutes. The silence would let her words sink in. Sayuriama was the first to speak.

“You know, I told him that I liked him. How foolish was that.” She didn’t laugh, but at least she saw the humor in the situation.

“Must be a first for him. You have a rather generous heart, finding something admirable in such a difficult man.” Sayuriama looked like she wanted to defend him, but ended up shrugging.

“I smeared sauce on his stupid face. I also kissed him.” Mito coughed.

“What?!?”

“Yeah,” Sayuriama turned back, wind rippling through her hair, and finally smiling, “He’s sort of comes off as a bit of a push-over at times.” 

“I not going to emphasize how much of a lie I believe that is.” Mito’s voice was rather flat, and she found a stump to sit on. She didn’t want to talk at all about the Uchiha, but if she had to, it was going to be to insult him. “Did you use... uh... the techniques I taught you on him?” 

Sayuriama smirked/

“If you continue to ask me invasive questions, I’ll have to ask why your ever perfect hair is messy and your tiara is off-center. I know what you and my BROTHER did on your little ‘walk’.” 

Mito’s face went red, and she was standing before she knew what she was doing. Her inner-self almost took control and moved to throw the girl from the mountain, but she stopped with well-honed patience. 

The day needn't be destroyed by killing her future sister-in-law. 

“No offense, but they didn’t exactly work out.” Sayuriama continued. Mito rolled her eyes, but walked over and gently sat down. Sayuriama finally followed suit. 

“And he was so offended by basic teasing that the great Madara Uchiha ran off, insulting you like a child?” Mito would never understand this crush Sayuriama had. “About par for the course. He and Hashirama act like nine-year-olds.

Sayuriama sighed in exasperation. “They have the emotional capacity of one.”

Mito blinked, toning down her voice.

“He likely was overwhelmed.”

“But, he was so cruel after. He called me _weak_.” Mito flinched at the words, feeling the pang. Madara sense weakness and cut to the core. Agitated or flustered, he had been able to cut Sayuriama where it would hurt her the most.

“I’m sorry.”

Sayuriama’s eyes filled with tears again, and her hands gripped her shoulders.

“But he wasn’t wrong, Mito. All I have to offer is my face.” In a moment, Mito was on her feet, hands on the girl’s shoulder. 

“I don’t care what _Madara Uchiha_ thinks, he’s wrong. We all have weaknesses, and he’s _mistaken_ if he thinks he is invincible. But one thing is sure.” Mito stared into her eyes, sharp and full of fire. “You are much stronger than he can _imagine_.”

“But... Mito..”

“Sayuri, affection is not a weakness. It’s what makes life worth living. If being a shinobi is the only thing that means something to him, he’s missing the bigger picture. _You_ can’t change him.” Tears ran down Sayuriama’s face. “You can only control what you want.”

_Of course, Mito knew her so well, and her words finally brought some closure. A reality suddenly dawned on her. She could do whatever she wanted._

“I guess I’ll just have to forget him.”

.

.

Finally, Mito thought, we get to the solution.

“Love isn’t as easy as I make it seem,” Mito said with a rather raucous wink. Sayuri narrowed her eyes at such an answer.

“You know what you can do Mito? You can go-”

“Get married?” Mito said softly, eyes glimmering. “I guess I will.”

Sayuriama stopped dead. She looked straight at the women, attempting to find the right emotions. After a few moments a grin broke out, letting go of her misery, and Sayuriama wrapped her arms around the woman.

“SISTER!”

“Heh,” Mito smirked. “That’s right.”

“CONGRATULATIONS! Hashirama never stood a chance!” Mito grinned and pushed the girl off. Sayuriama’s face went dark again. “Oh my gosh, Mito! I’ve ruined the first day of your engagement!” Once again she scrunched her features, “I’m SO SORRY! I was so upset that I-“

“Calm down. It’s understandable, and since this is your first dabble in romance, so big emotions are to be expected.” Mito reassured. Sayuriama nodded thoughtfully.

“First _love_? I guess.”

“First romance, love, or whatever you’d like to call it. Even though it hurts right now, it will get better.” Mito smiled at her.

“Will he regret his words?” Sayuriama asked quietly as if she was trying hard not to bother Mito over and over, and failing. Mito shrugged, causing a teardrop to form.

“No. But you will move on regardless. Madara Uchiha is consumed by his demons. It is not you that he hates, nor that he will spite in the end.”

For some reason, that left Sayuriama feeling a bit chilly, despite the peaking heat of the day.

Sayuriama hugged Mito. Mito who was going to be her sister. “I’m sorry to have been so dramatic.” Sayuriama clutched at her chest. “I just felt like nothing was right. Like there is no point.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just give it some time.” 

Sayuriama stepped back and adjusted herself.

“Let’s go meet Hashirama. You can tell me the details on the way.” She put a finger to her chin, then make a rather grotesque face. “Except for nothing gross or perverted. He IS my brother.”

Mito smiled. “As _if_ I would. You keep your promise to not linger on Madara Uchiha and I will keep my promise not to over-tell.” She stepped over to the cliff face, a humorous smile on her face.

“What?”

“You know, Hashirama wants to put Madara’s face on the cliffside if they choose him to become the village leader.”

“He called it the Hokage?” Sayuriama gave a skeptical look back. “What a stupid name. And Tobirama would have a fit if he had to look at that face every day.”

“Yes, Tobirama said it would be a good way to scare the children.” Mito smiled.

Sayuriama snickered. “I can’t disagree entirely.” 

Mito looked at her drily, before turning and to leave.

“It must be.”

“Hey!” 

\--X--

  
  


Hayo Uchiha, after a quick search, found Hashirama Senju walking through the town. The latter would regularly do this, and it was common for him to use his Wood Ninjutsu to reinforce the structure or build an entirely new one (A rather memorable incident concerning a Ramen stand came to his mind) for some villager in need. At times he forgot that the spot was owned by someone else, and had to do several apologies and relocation.

But Hayo knew that the villagers loved him, because he cared so much, and so openly. Hayo liked him because he had seen him on the battlefield. He had never once killed a man he could convince to step down and not fight him. Often, he left the Uchiha with injuries that were much milder than he could have inflicted. He only went all out on those that were truly a threat. 

And Hashirama knew his name, acknowledged him, and smiled. He all of these things as Hayo approached him now.

“Lord Hashirama.”

“What can I do for you Hayo?”

“I come with a message. Saburo Uchiha has instructed me to tell you about Lord Madara’s recent change of plans. He will be unable to attend today’s competition.” Hashirama nodded slowly, and if he had been wondering at this change, he didn’t let it show.

“That’s unfortunate. I know that the participants do better when he is watching. May I ask what is taking him away?” He said kindly. Hayo nodded, already prepared.

“He is leaving for an inspection of the outposts in the Land of Fire, as well as clan business. He estimated around six months for the tour.” Madara and Hashirama regularly took turns touring the Land of Fire, but usually, it was a bit more planned than this. 

“This early?” Hashirama frowned, crossing his arms. “And for so long with so little preparation.” During a time he should be in the village, meeting new clans. If he wanted to become the Hokage, good relationships were crucial during this time. 

“He is aware it was scheduled for next month, but Lord Madara seemed to feel as if an early inspection necessary. He’s already left….” Hayo trailed off, a little embarrassed at Madara’s abrupt exit. Of course, there was no stopping him when he was set. And he was practically in and out this time, giving none a chance to question him at all. 

_Open the main floor of the compound, air out the clothing for the mistress of the Clan, the compound should be spotless upon my return._

The Elders had approved heartily, and none suggested he forestall, as taking time for preparing for a bride was fairly customary for the Uchiha Clan. Tradition and even the man who was customarily reluctant to leave his clan and did everything to stall the dreaded visits would always adhere to traditions like this.

Not that Hashirama needed to know that, Hayo thought with certainty. Hashirama did his best to take in the news and look on the bright side.

“It’s a first for Madara to leave so... unplanned, but I trust his decision.” He said, just in case any of the bystanders who were around were listening in. “A Clan Head as he had always done things for a good reason. Madara has a good head for timing.” 

“Thank you. I’ll let Lord Saburo know.” Hashirama nodded, bidding him farewell.

Hayo bowed and proceeded to walked away.

He remained rather stoic at first, glad to be done, but after a moment a look of revelation overcame his face. Madara had grilled him relentlessly on Sayuriama Senju, to the point he had been concern that the Clan Leader may be harboring a tendre of sorts for her. 

But several months without Lord Uchiha meant a rare opportunity to see Lady Sayuriama, and if she was agreeable, court her. Not even Madara could say much if they wed before he came back. After all, did he not have as good a chance as any? He was handsome, well-liked, and Sayuriama didn’t seem to mind most Uchiha’s. She smiled and waved prettily as he passed!

Ashura would later tell him this was one of the most inane ideas he had ever conceived, and he would be lucky to convince a goat to marry him, much less the most beautiful woman in the Land of Fire.

But for now...

 _Lady Sayuriama._ He sighed contently.  
Lady Sayuriama and he, _alone_ for several months while Madara Uchiha perused the lands for an Uchiha bride, and rumors ran unchecked. 

At this turn of events, he could slip in and take control of the deserted woman, becoming her knight in shining armor.

\--X--

Hayo may have been grinning, but when Hashirama found himself alone he could feel the tension wracking up in his bones. He was brilliant when it came to war procedure, but suddenly, he felt very distressed. 

He had read the situation wrong, and now, Madara had fled and Sayuriama had runoff.

 _What_ was he going to tell Sayuriama on her return? He couldn’t leave it on Mito, and Tobirama would have no sympathy for her. 

He really disliked being the Clan Head for things like this. 

\--X--

  
  


To Hashirama’s surprise, Sayuriama took the news without a frown. 

She, who was always talking continued to do so, congratulated him for his wedding, took the news with some jest, and went to her room. He thought that Mito had gotten through to her. The relief was swift, as it was also premature. 

Unfortunately, it was the calm before the storm.

It was the freak out that Tsunada had upon finding Sayuriama leaving the compound that night ensued an uproar unknown to the war-riddled Senju.

Sayuriama in a forceful manner knocked out her guardian in an attempt to jump the fence. Other members of the household had heard, and thinking an enemy, had overpowered her. Both brothers were summoned, Tsunada was awakened, and the calm resumed.

Hashirama found himself in one of his more depressed moods. There was a deep sense of anger emanating from Tobirama, and he felt extremely violated as well. 

But it fell to him to right this wrong, as Senju clan head, and he couldn’t give let his temper dictate her punishment.

But it was time for something to change. 

Tobirama murmured angrily to himself, having just finished tying her left arm to her bed. He had done it very gently, but he was muttering what sounded like plans for torturing prisoners of war, clearly making sure she didn’t try and make a run for it again. He kept his fierce gaze on the far wall.

Sayuriama’s beautiful face had that look of promised insubordination, a sneer creating wrinkles. She wouldn’t look at either brother, just staring at her feet vested in ill-fitting sandals. Tobirama moved to look in the pack that Sayuriama had been carrying, laying out what he found in an orderly fashion. It was to both of their surprise at the ninja equipment she had. Normally Sayuriama wasn’t let anywhere near the ninja tools, due to her amazing ability to cause damage worthy of a tailed beast.

The event was awkward, but in a way, reminded him of the young Sayuri before they had parted ten years ago. 

She should know better!

“Sayuriama, what on earth were you doing?” He said, disappointment leaking through his question. 

She didn’t answer.

“At least we could fight the tailed beasts,” Tobirama said angrily. “How does one deal with this? In our own _family_. Father would die of shame.” For the first time, Sayuriama blinked, resolve wavering. She still said nothing, furthering Tobirama’s irritation. But Hashirama’s kind, calm anger was much worse when he finally unleashed it, and he considered his options. Deepening her guilt was a far better tool.

He let silence reign.

Tsunada was still outside, sitting in the hall crying hysterically to Mito and revealing all of Sayuriama’s movement. The night practices, the market trips, and well, everything that was anything. Including Madara Uchiha. 

Tobirama was furious, and Hashirama was very frustrated. They had assumed she wouldn’t abuse the freedom he had given her.

Sayuriama’s head got lower with every accusation, shoulders slouching.

Her pride was gone.

“I guess this explains those nights you didn’t tell off the suitors,” Hashirama said with a certain amount of bitter humor that made Tobirama look even more upset. 

Sayuriama still said nothing, but Hashirama knew it was only a matter of time.

“I think that this means we haven’t been very good brothers.” Tobirama clenched his fists.

Sayuriama tilted her head away, and Hashirama began to sense the abasement Tobirama’s words created. “As a matter of fact, Hashirama, where Sayuriama is concerned we may be the worst fools in this god-damn village, trusting her while she mocks us right under our noses.” 

Hashirama frowned. There was no need for Tobirama to continue, but sometimes only his devastating ability with words managed to hurt the sister when nothing else could. He tried waving him down, but Tobirama ignored him.

“You have caused the Uchiha Clan Leader serious discomfort! We’ll be apologizing for _years to come,_ not to mention anytime you meet. It will be awkward.” Tobirama alleged his voice humorless and cutting in its style. “Did you know he is preparing to take a wife, likely since you have bothered him _so damn much?_ ” 

Sayuriama visibly flinched, and she looked down, causing her dark hair to fall forward. She had been dressed in a male ninja’s traveling outfit, sans the thick Senju armor, but she looked so small in the clothing meant for muscles and years of training. “I can only imagine what would have happened if he found _you_ following him outside of the village-” Tobirama began, only to be cut off.

Hashirama raised his hand. A direct command.

“Were you going to look for Lord Madara, Sayuriama?” A shiny trail ran down her cheeks, causing Tobirama to snort. 

He sighed, then turned to the white-haired brother. “I’ll handle this. Alone.”

Tobirama grunted, stomping away. He thought Hashirama would be too sympathetic but left anyway, taking the bag with him. After stepping outside, he gave several orders, and the sounds of Tsunada crying faded as she was led away.

It was quiet again. Hashirama knew she disliked the quiet.

They were not very alike, he mused, watching her struggle not to cry. She had been much more like Itama or Kawarama, eager to jump in and fight, impulsive and thoughtless. So much so that after they had passed, their mother had grown an iron grip on the young girl until she died. Then tossed like a kunai, her chains passed around the Uzumaki clan and eventually back to him, and he was aware of the fact that she did feel trapped. 

He knew she saw him as her jailer.

And he couldn’t release the chains or they would all suffer.

Hashirama walked over to the bed and untied his sister as if to assuage this awful thought. He loved his sister, and like most, had wanted to protect her. To let her live life without responsibility and fear. He doubted Madara was the real objective, but perhaps her desire to feel important and capable. If she tamed Madara… did she think she’d finally be seen by him?

He was mature enough to see that he had likely contributed to this moment.

Why had he been blind to see that she needed _more?_

He sat next to her, the bed groaning under his weight as he pulled her to his chest. She fell into it, and her silent tears turned into quiet sobbing. He pulled a hand through her hair, pulling the locks out of her face. His other arm wrapped around her, stroking her head.

They, the Senju brothers, had not taken good care of what was most precious. 

“I didn’t…mean…mean to wreak….wreak today... …I… I. Didn’t know…what to ...to ...to do. If... I st..stop… I …I will…. I was... I was not going after him...” Hashirama took a breath. He had never EVER dealt with anything like this. Still, he was pretty keen. “I was... going to go train at the sound temple.”

Ah, know that was an explanation that made sense.

Jilted by Madara, and wanting to prove him wrong, she had formulated a plan to visit the Sound Temple and train there. It was rumored that some exclusively took in women and trained them in the ninja arts. 

“So you felt the need to escape like a criminal?” He chuckled, unable to help it. She shrunk, and for a moment he was transported to a time where was eleven, and she was a newborn. It was the first girl baby he had held and he was so worried he was going to drop her. 

It was ridiculous. She would have no chance of getting there, and her body was not capable of training, and she knew it. But she had clearly been hurt, and then she probably got some inspiring advice that she took the wrong way. For a moment anger at Madara filled him before he let it go. 

“I ... I wanted to move on. Not still be here, to be hated. I want to be strong. ” Hashirama frowned. His sister had always taken her inability to fight hard. “I want to show him I’m not weak. To show you...”

There it was.

He, once again, wished his friend wasn’t so awkward when confronted with non-shinobi.

Madara would have hurt her tender feelings without a second thought if she had touched on a vulnerability he had. And Sayuriama was very good at doing that. 

He let her cry for a few more minutes. 

He was disappointed. He knew his desire to see Madara _like_ another Senju had made him hasty, and now it seemed impossible that two people so different, but were both misunderstood could develop a friendship that may turn into something deeper. So few people understood and trusted the Uchiha clan leader that he hoped a little attention from a beautiful woman would help him understand that old anger could be breached, that he was worth saving from his rage.

With a bit of humor, Hashirama remembered asking Madara _not_ to hurt his sister’s feelings. But it seemed like this was probably the end of anything between them.

Finally, Hashirama spoke.

“Sometimes, the best thing is endurance. It’s also the most painful. I remember thinking that Mito had no interest in me, and it killed me to see her go back to Uzushiogakure.” Sayuriama shook slightly but lifted her pretty face to look at Hashirama’s kind one, voice quivering.

“I …. I… was afraid. Afraid when I came we wouldn’t be close as a family. I was scared. And things _have_ changed. You and Tobirama are further away from me than when we were apart. I can offer your dreams nothing because I… I am _nothing_. I am the dead weight of your dreams.”

He twisted, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her into a hug as tears fell down his face. “You are _not,_ and never have been, anything but a blessing to my life Sayuriama. This village is _for_ you. A happy life for _you_ is the dream I desire.”

She cried into his chest, and he patted her back gently.

Hashirama realized that maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as _he_ should have been. She didn’t come off as a delicate girl who needed direction, so he hadn’t thought to put her to a task. With village matters being so time-consuming he had Sayuriama alone for hours. It struck him that she didn’t speak of any friends, especially those her age and gender. 

Surrounded by sycophants she was utterly alone.

Shame filled him that he had not noticed. He brushed her hair back, and after a while, when they were done crying, he spoke again.

“Sayuriama, I don’t always know what goes on in Madara’s mind. But, I can make a reasonable guess.” He patted her back as he got off the bed. “but, I do know that Madara doesn’t hate you. He wouldn’t have stayed there for lunch if he felt as such. The fact he stayed at all, now THAT is a miracle.” Sayuriama grasped Hashirama’s Kimono top, using him to stand up.

“He... has a cutting mouth.” 

“He is good at using it to protect his feelings.” Hashirama grinned knowingly. “But Tobirama’s exaggerating. He didn’t leave to jilt you, just to finish Clan business.” Secretly Hashirama felt that it was for Madara to sort HIMSELF out. “He’ll be back, probably in record time. He’ll soon realize what a silly situation this is. Maybe when you’re older, and he’s better settled into the village, there could be something, if you still feel the same way.” 

Sayuriama pulled back, knowing that her fantasy had been that; fantasy.

“...Ew, no.”

“Fine. He’ll kidnap you and take you to some quaint village and marry you. Then I would be forced to challenge him.” This ridiculous assertion included Hashirama putting a dramatic hand to his brow in misery. Sayuriama laughed shakily, as he intended her too.

“Mito would kill us all.”

“You. She has to marry me before she gets me! Now Sayuriama, if you left, who would help Mito plan the wedding?”

“Not you. You would be doing the wedding tonight if you could. You’re terrible at formality and tradition.” Hashirama almost went to the floor in misery at her opinion, but he popped back up. 

“Exactly, now promise me,” Hashirama and Sayuriama looked into one other’s eyes. “Promise me, sister, that you will torture me every day till I get married with wedding preparations, and not go on some mad journey. No running away, or secret ninja things.”

It was almost inaudible.

“Ok.” 

“Or asking Senju cousins and family to train you.” She blushed, leaning forward into the wet spot on Hashirama’s shirt. He was about ready to sigh and do some serious wood cage ninjutsu to solve this problem in an easier way. If Sayuriama didn’t promise then she had no intention of staying, and he’d have to worry.

“No, not that. But I won’t run away. Every day, I’ll stay and make it hell.”

He smiled, laughing.

“That’s what makes the good times so sweet. Let’s go to the competition, and after, let’s talk to Tobirama about where you can help us. We’re truly useless older brother’s to not put you to work!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original first draft of this story (2010-ish? Yikes!) I had a lot more pining over Madara going on, but I feel like Sayuriama needing to develop is a much healthier and normal route. Funnily, the time has given me more introspection about young women, rather than just being one.
> 
> Also, mandatory Tumblr awareness. Find me @gav-san (https://gav-san.tumblr.com/)


	10. Scroll 10

The hottest gossip that came from the tournament ended up as a tie.

First was the much-debated (from inside of the clan) news of if Madara Uchiha was _really_ going to copy Hashirama Senju and take a wife. A good chunk of the villagers thought it was preposterous (I mean, who would agree to marry such a terrifying man?!?) and the remaining felt rather amazed that it was even gossiped that a clan leader would eventually want to solidify his line. Ashura Uchiha was particularly loud in voicing his denial of it, stating that it was all absurd, and of course just nonsense and-

Well, moving on.

The other piece of news was less contested. 

Though the village had many shinobi events, this was the first that the invites included all people, including the various non-ninja that had sought refuge and stability. This meant a large showing of most walks of life in the village was included, and frankly, it was the sort of opportunity Tobirama had been waiting for. He _was_ a genius in social manipulation.

It was the collective ripple of gasps, a silent appreciation, and the loud return of everyone turning to their neighbor to audibly appreciate the unplanned appearance of the much talked about Senju sister. The moment Sayuriama stepped onto an overlooking platform next to him, Tobirama knew that he had created the perfect rumor, one that would doubtless reach even that fool of a Fire Daimyo and pique his curiosity. Not even a fool could deny her attraction and such a notorious beauty was ample bait for men in nobility and other greedy collectors of beauties. Not that it would lead to anything but well...

He could admit his sister was particularly beautiful that day, dark hair pinned, in a simple, light-yellow kimono she seemed fresh and young.

Sayuriama flushed, very embarrassed and a bit irritated when she realized that she had become part of the show. But in an exemplary manner, she ignored the stares and tried her best not to irritate Tobirama. He, in turn, spent a good deal of time talking with his younger sister, asking her advice, and explaining certain techniques that appeared before them.

After all, Tobirama rarely let a moment to solidify the village pass by him. 

“A Shinobi school… for everyone?” Sayuriama asked, eyes wide in wonder at Tobirama’s slight smug look. Hashiarma had just announced it, and it had taken everyone’s attention, for once, off her. And for good reason.

“Anyone with talent should be allowed to serve the village,” Tobirama said, arm behind the chair she was in as if to proclaim her off-limits. She tilted her head, her smile widening. “And I want you to teach there.”

Sayuriama’s mouth dropped open, humor fleeing as her mouth dropped open.

“ _What?_ ”

His smirk grew.

This was only the beginning of the evening, which proceeded with great enthusiasm. Several shinobi teams were presented, as well as a ranking system, the setting up of a police force, and other exciting new changes that were going to be implemented in the coming weeks. 

Then, the fighting began.

Sayuriama watched in wonderment, and a bit of jealousy if she was honest. All the colors, styles and range of people, outfits and weapons were a wonder to her. It was a good-natured observation, but her focused attention at the warriors caused many to wonder if she perhaps had a beau. This was unfortunate because it was not the end of the rumors that would begin about her.

Hayo Uchiha was the surprise winner of the hand-to-hand combat contest, beating out several other clans in a manner that was quite astounding. He hadn’t even used his Sharingan! But it would have just been another moment, but when the time came for him to collect on the price (a nicely engraved set of kunai), he instead bowed, blushed, and asked Hashirama for something astonishing instead.

A kiss from the beautiful Sayuriama. 

Under normal circumstances, she would have risen, turned her back on the Uchiha, and left. But being jilted, but now free from constraints and refusing to worry about what a certain clan leader would think, _she agreed._

Ashura, pissed, flipped Hayo off from the sidelines when he turned to wink at him. Saburo Uchiha rolled his eyes and Hikaku didn’t say a word, merely blinked slowly. Tobirama looked cross and Hahsirama looked quite amused. 

After Hayo received the albeit tamer then imagined kiss (on the cheek, nothing more, Tobirama fiercely muttered at the Uchiha as he stood before his sister), he became a most popular man in the barracks. 

The night continued, and Sayuriama paid little attention to the moment, mostly thinking it rather amusing for a while. After all, he didn’t much know her, and she didn’t quite understand why he would do something so forward, and in front of so many people.

Mito would later explain that he had been ‘staking his claim’. Then Sayuriama was annoyed but flustered. 

While Hayo hadn’t won the approval of Tobirama, Hashirama was much lazier about Hayo, seeing how his sister didn’t seem to mind him. He was young, handsome, and still Uchiha. A good match, even for all of Tobirama’s mumbling.

And ever since, with the permission of her brother, Hayo had occasionally called on the beautiful young woman. Rumors swirled, as they often did, around Sayuriama, and many shed her in a frivolous light. A girl who was rather fickle, running from one boy to the next. 

Those who knew her knew better could only shake their head. Although it seemed as if Sayuriama was all smiles, those in the Senju clan had never seen such an irritated Sayuriama when he finally left.

“Just _tell_ him,” Tobirma muttered, trying to eat his rice in peace. Even if the Uchiha had scared off most of the other suitors, he simply would not approve. 

Sayuriama didn’t answer, not quite sure why she didn’t. Perhaps it was because she did not want him to hurt the way she had been hurt.

“He’ll get it eventually. I mean…” She consistently refused to see him.

Tobirama snorted.

“You underestimate yourself.”

Hashirama’s wedding soon overwhelmed the lives of those in the Senju clan, pushing Hayo far from Sayuriama’s mind. Back on good terms, she and Tsunada resumed a much more casual relationship than they had before. Instead of a girl and matron, it became a mutually respectful partnership of women who needed one another. Though Sayuriama firmly put her foot down about dressing in the thick silk furisode kimonos outside of large events, as well as began dressing much more simply overall. Gone were the hair ornaments, and jewel, replaced with trimmed hair, mostly pulled back into loose braids. She did enjoy wearing a light ko-furisode emblazoned with Senju emblems in a vivid green.

Other such changes were visible as well. Hashirama let out a sigh of gladness when she returned from a visit that included girls from several other clans, and it had gone well. When she didn’t hide behind her wealth and name she became more relatable, and though many were jealous, some were willing to reach out.

Tobirama was, surprisingly, the biggest help when it came to her choosing a direction. While she had never put much worth into the skills she had learned in the shrine, she discovered that Tobirama had. As he had promised, he instilled a place for her in his new ‘ninja academy’. While she had no skills in battle, her deep knowledge of theory, the history of ninjutsu, the land, and character were much coveted. Successful students would have the choice of an additional class, consisting of foreign languages. She was excited.

But her well-crafted confidence flew out the door the first day of school.

“I can’t do it.” She said calmly at breakfast, making Tobirama raise a brow.

“You weren’t scared of running off to the temple of sound during a war, but this scares you?” He questioned, making her flush. The way he ate was sometimes very condescending.

“You don’t get it. I’m not good enough.” She tried to say, but he waved it away.

“For eight-year-olds?” He didn’t hide his grin.

“Kids are smart.”

“Then go mess up. Then cry. Then try harder tomorrow.” He counseled.

The first day she was a mess, a total disaster. But the kids were in awe, and the adults who came to ‘supervise’ their kids didn’t mention it either. She went home, cried alone in her room, and prepared better with what she had learned. The next day wasn’t great, but the day after was better.

Soon, the okay days outnumbered the bad. And eventually, she had a good day. 

Then she enjoyed it. 

It was, in all respects, a period of great learning and inevitably, Sayuriama matured. When she turned twenty, she realized that it had been weeks since she had thought of Madara Uchiha. She was quite glad to put him at the back of her mind and put her head to work.

But as always, time passed.

The end of the sixth month was getting nearer. Hashirama’ss wedding loomed closer, as did the return of Madara did also. Though neither Senju brother mentioned it, the looks they shared said enough.

_He’s coming._

_It’s different now._

_We’ll watch._

There was a strange peace that filled Tsunada as she held her book, watching Sayuriama pull a brush through her hair that evening. The young woman had changed more than a little in the last few months, she blossomed with the increased attention both brothers gave her. Tsunada didn’t know how this was possible but she was more beautiful than ever. 

Contentment suited her.

“The Sarutobi boy told his father that you spoke in his native dialect, and did it well,” Tsunada mentioned, closing the page she was one. Sayuriama only half-turned towards her. 

“Well, I had time to look up a few words. He’s a talented boy, but quite the delinquent. I hoped to encourage him to show up to class more.” She remarked, setting down the brush to turn to the class preparation she was compiling.

Tsunada snorted. She had a feeling the boy would be there every day if he thought Sayuriama was giving him special attention.

Tsunada was surprised to find Sayuriama a sharp teacher, demanding if not bordering on difficult. But she didn’t face problems with subordination, part in thanks to her beauty, and part in thanks to her winsome way of telling kids they could do better than they felt they could. She was also a very good debater. She left many a wild child with not only a good chastisement, but the desire to go back for some more.

She had thrown herself into the various projects, especially teaching calligraphy and writing at the new school. After all, Sayuriama was better-read than most, having more time. She shocked the Sarutobi clan, at her ability to speak their native dialect. She knew several languages because she had various tutors in the Land of Whirlpools. Not only that, but she began teaching about the world, one she began to dream of visiting. The giant mountains in the Land where Earth lays untouched, amazing storms in the Land where Lighting strikes the ground as if dancing. 

And she knew more than a fair share about ninja, jutsu, and hilarious family stories and made her popular for her wit. It was a classroom of fantasy, insight, and enjoyment. With their kids becoming friends, the clans began to become more friendly through the educational intertwining, and it couldn’t be helped the youth enjoyed it; the teacher was not hard on the eyes. 

They were also enormously successful, and the small fee that adults paid to watch ended up paying for several new buildings in the academy. 

Hashirama beamed whenever he saw her, and even Tobirama couldn't help but feel smugly proud. 

And she enjoyed this new life.

But she wasn’t ignorant.

She knew that Madara Uchiha would soon be back, and it caused her stomach to twist in worry. How silly she had seemed, compared to how different she was now. And though she tried to focus on each day’s trials, it couldn’t be helped that occasionally was swept into darker thoughts.

And her anxiety had eventually deepened into something sinister, causing her to lose sleep as nightmares crept upon her. Even now, Sayuriama sat in bed, fingers going to her long braid, tugging it to remind herself she was awake. 

Perhaps she needed something to help her sleep. She’d ask Tsunada tomorrow.

**\--X--**

_"Seeking stability, one god was divided into yin and yang, these opposing two acting together obtain all things in creation."_

Madara’s trip had started at the Naka shrine, inside the underground bunker. It was a secret place, only known to the Uchiha Elders who had mastered the Sharingan, as it housed one of the most precious keepsakes the Uchiha possessed: The Stone Tablet Monument, rumored to be created by the Sage of the Six Paths himself.

And the stone tablet was a monolith of mystery, only revealed to those with power; Specifically the Sharingan. Madara had been a boy when he first read the inscribed words that stood at the top. And later, when he had gained the Mangekyo Sharingan, did the entire phrase unravel, though the mysteries it held only deepened. 

Yin and yang were obvious. 

There couldn’t be two more opposite people as he and Hashirama, and their clans mirrored this sentiment. The Uchiha were the descendants of the original sons of the Sage of Sixth Paths, and it was rumored the Senju was the other party where the line where the power diverged. Yin and yang were tricky concepts, never able to mix, always fighting. 

Until they took a piece of one another, learning how to dance in unison. 

Their clans had never managed to move in tandem, until this village, and it was in part a large reason he had given into Hashirama’s inane demands in the end. Because he must have still held onto a bit of that hope.

It was clear that in order for him to understand, he must at least try and offer a part of the Uchiha to the village. And what’s more, he must accept some part of the Senju.

Madara’s moon-lit thoughts were interrupted as a slender hand pawned down his bare shoulder. He flinched

“So, _My Uchiha Lord_. Surely you won’t find another Uchiha woman to offer you such... assets as I can.” The voice was silvery, her hair dark as night, falling over a pale shoulder blade. With her kimono pulled down, stretched to cover only the bare minimum, she gazed with brown eyes full of mischief. “I should be so lonely if you should forget about me.”

She was part Uchiha, and so a bit of a beauty. But mostly, she was common and rather bad at hiding her intentions.

“You should put aside such inane dreams,” He said snidely, ignoring her despite being at her window. He hated her, and this place, but sometimes it was the only way he could find a release for the stress he was under. She was not terrible looking, not old nor deformed, and sterile. She was also good at keeping her mouth shut, as revealing their agreement would either kill her or make her look like a lying fool. It was all a man like he desired.

Before, anyhow. 

“A woman can only stay faithful for so long. You know I have other... customers, ones who would offer me a good deal more money. Even a proposal or two.”

She put her hands on her generous hips grinning at the shirtless figure in the window seal, pointedly ignoring her again. The lights were dim in the room, but the stars and moon were bright, his white skin shimmering in their light. His battle-scarred chest rippled, and his muscles bulged under the taut skin, lacking all unnecessary fat. His face remained expressionless, as it had the last month, his black eyes flat. 

He had never felt so disgusted at her well-trained body. 

She picked up a tube of red lipstick and put more on her smirking lips. It made her look coarse, and garish, in the thin light. A rough smell permeated the air, a reminder that a stage actress was never done pleasing those who kept her in power. Had he never noticed these things? Or had he just not cared?

“Then go complain to them.” He said, knowing that this was a failed attempt before she had even started. 

He stayed as she stood up, once again adjusting herself, and sauntered over to him. She put a hand on his muscled shoulder and trailed it down, familiarly. His dark eyes were fixated away from the room, into the dark forest, not even bothering with her.

“Don’t touch me.” He shoved her back, enough to send her to the floor. 

The motion didn’t deter the foolish women who had carelessly thought Madara held some sentiment to return to her. She pouted, winding her hands together.

“Don’t play that game with me, _Clan Leader_ . I know what you’re thinking.” She rose, forgoing the robe. “I know what all of you men think. You’ve come here with your ‘ _I could care less’_ attitude, but you all still come back to me in the end.” She pushed his long hair aside and kissed his neck with her red lipstick lips. “No woman has made you return, except for me.”

“Oh?” He said, raising a brow. “Or perhaps you’re just easy.” The woman's smile faded a bit.

_A summer meadow, an innocent kiss that was briefer than a wisp of wind._

He didn’t push away, but she didn’t realize it was not because he wanted her. 

_Good, happy, important, powerful. Trusted._

He was so far away that he didn’t seem to feel her cold claw attempting to capture him.

_“I am a mere girl, perhaps. But if that’s what you think, I may have higher aspirations than you thought possible.” A dimpled smile that could back such confidence._

He smirked, and the woman almost jumped in surprise. But she took it in fast, moving to capitalize on whatever he was thinking.

“Don’t be so hard on me, Clan Leader.” 

She pouted, taking the daring move of placing her hands brazenly on his thighs. She waited, expecting to be rewarded. He was still. 

There was nothing there. She inspired nothing.

Madara could have groaned in agitation. 

Six months had not gone as planned. He had gone across to countless Uchiha battlements, promenaded before several of the wealthiest, and most prominent in the clan. The rumors of him searching for a bride were enough to bring out their daughters, and without exception, each failed spectacularly. 

He couldn’t help think of the advice that sardonic minx had offered, right before she ruined his life.

_Perhaps one needs a bit of wandering to ensure things are right._

There was no Uchiha woman that he could even imagine as the Uchiha Clan Mistress, all too much like himself, if he were to be frank. The Uchiha were united, similar, and as he thought back on the Uchiha Stone Monument, he wondered... if that was their weakness.

His weakness.

_"Seeking stability, one god was divided into yin and yang, these opposing two acting together obtain all things in creation."_

Did he need _balance,_ an opposing force, in order to become whole? Is that why a mere girl from the Senju had consumed his thoughts? If he returned, and somehow managed to convince the Senju to give up their darling princess... would it even work?

He refused to listen to the affirmation inside, knowing he was susceptible to his own desires. 

He was once again brought back to that garish room and the sad little actress who had her hands all over him. He flared his nose as she dug her nails in.

“Let’s just enjoy tonight, hm?” She chimed, sweetly. It grated him like a knife.

He knew, at this point, he wouldn’t.

“Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you have been sleeping with shinobi from the Land of Lightning?” He said, and she recoiled immediately. For a prominent actress of the Land of Fire, one who lay with daimyo and shinobi alike, to consort with men from differing nations was open treason. 

“Of course not-” She cooed, and the effect was summarily ruined by the shinobi who appeared behind her. The insignia of the newly formed Village Hidden in the Clouds blazed proudly on his head.

Madara almost laughed, dark lips sharpening at the edges. Some things were so predictable.

“Hm? What was that?” He mocked, and the woman turned red.

“Like I said. There are others who are offering me more.” She hissed. The shinobi behind her raised a long, thin blade.

“So you are betraying The Village?” He said, amused. The woman paled, her pallor turning a gray-white.

It happened in a second.

Madara opened his eyes moving fast as lightning, the blur of Crimson leaving a bloody afterimage. The victims saw nothing, almost felt nothing, and hit the floor in moments. 

The harlot, who dared talk down to him, was cleanly cut in half. Her dead body hit the floor of the elaborately covered shack she called her office. 

“There is no place for such a treacherous _whore_ in the Land of Fire.” As he went through the things she had, he found what he was looking for. Not only gifts and messages from the Raikage, but what seemed to be one from the new Tsuchikage. Nor a place for a woman who traded the secrets of Leaf Ninja for gold. 

“My future wife is a jealous one, and can’t bear any competition.” He said with a hand on his hip to no one in particular.

He pulled his shirt back into place, tucking the folder in his belt pouch. He’d see about that treaty between _The Village Hidden in the Leaves_ and _The Village Hidden in the Rocks_. 

Within a few minutes, he was out the window, fully dressed. He didn’t overthink if he may have spared her if she hadn’t disappointed him so poorly. But he wasn’t as confused when he left. 

“Perhaps a bit of wandering does provide clarity.” Perhaps an unusual clan mistress would bring a balance sourly needed within his clan, and the village itself. If he was going to be the Hokage, as Hashirama promised, he would need the provided equilibrium.

Besides, if he couldn’t destroy these useless feelings, he would take advantage of them. Now he just needed to discover the secret that the Senju girl was hiding. He would breathe easy marrying her after that.

**\--X--**

“Hayo called again.” Tsunada implied as she watched Sayuriama pulled a comb through her hair, eyes gazing intently at the scroll in her lap. “But I told him that you were planning the wedding with Mito today.”

Both girls were sitting in a newer part of the Senju compound Hashirama had just finished, gossiping about some servants. It included a garden and pool, for Sayuriama, that he created so she would be more inclined to stay home when searching for privacy.

Sayuriama bit her lip, expressing her discomfort as gracefully as she could. She set down the book, moving to braid her hair if she needed to flee.

While it was all in good fun at the competition, Hayo Uchiha’s perusal was far too much like an actual suitor. She was well aware that you couldn’t force someone to fall out of love with you, but telling him to get lost seemed a bit harsh.

She would need to gently let him down. 

I mean, after all, she didn’t feel the same way, and it was cruel to lead people on, she thought drily, finishing her braid. And it would be very awkward if she did, as she had kissed the Uchiha Clan Leader, and would have to see him if they did marry.

Yes, better to not encourage Hayo. Best to close the book on that embarrassing chapter.

 _Weak_. 

She flinched, and Tsunada looked up, expecting to see something more than the sorry look on her face. 

But it only took Sayuriama a moment to wipe it away and regain herself. 

She had come to a firm decision, despite her feelings. No, she would bear any future relationship with dignity, even if she had yet to find a man that impassioned her as he had. Any future relationship was going to be dignified, slow, and done correctly. 

With a deft move, she finished the braiding, tucked the comb in her obi, and was off to her afternoon classes. Tsunada waved goodbye, passing her off to another clan member. 

**\--X--**

The older shinobi messenger dashed through the forest treetops, drops of sweat matting his head and making his grip slick. Fear made his heart fill his ears, but he kept his gaze forward. 

The old man knew he wasn’t going to make it.

Faster, he told his exhausted body. He only had to get to _someone_ . Tell someone else. Someone else had to hear the message, and take it. He only had to get the message to _someone_.

_The village was depending on him._

He grabbed at the next branch but the friction caused him to miss. The nin’s shoe, in his rush, accidentally caught on the tree branch, causing the man to crash noisily into the undergrowth below. He grimaced more at his careless sounds than the pain of what was likely a broken arm.

He rose as quietly as he could, biting his tongue to suppress his screams of agony when he tried to raise his arm. 

Okay, no arm, but at least he could still walk-

Cords of thick black mass exploded from around him, shooting through the air to disable him. He wriggled like a fly trying to escape. 

But the cords twisted tightly around his neck and crushed his trachea and clavicle in one swift blow. 

There was only a small wet gurgling, then the area resumed its silent watch. The poor old man had made no last sound and the forest was quiet as if complying with his wishes.

Quickly, the threads unwound and flew back to their owner, re-attaching themselves the thick body hidden in the trees. Piercing green eyes searched the area, assessing if the messenger had been alone. The white sclera looked more on the pinkish side as the moonlight hit his eyes, and on his forehead, he wore the sign of his ninja village.

Takigakure, the Village Hidden in the Waterfalls.

Finding no other threat, the Takigakure shinobi jumped down.

There could be no clues left. He, in a disturbing manner, unattached his arm, and the threads once again circled the body he had ruthlessly killed. The dark strands thickened as they wove, and in another moment they tightened, completely crushing the body out of recognition.

**\--X--**

Hashirama stood at the gates with a stern look on his face. He was in his casual wear, a kimono shirt, and navy pants, but his stance was as if he meant to rush out. In a moment, Tobirama appeared behind him, walking the dirt path to stand to his side. 

The large wood gates seemed to loom menacingly in the twilight, ninja preparing to shut them.

“So, has the old Masosuki hasn’t returned from sentry duty yet?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t be worried about a simple envoy mission... but Yasaiki is always the first one back, ready for his wife’s food. He wasn’t supposed to be nearly this long.” 

Tobirama glanced over. “Something is wrong.” It was a statement. Hashirama nodded, pointing to his chest. His intuition was rarely off.

“I can feel it. I sent out a clone, but the area he could be in is difficult.” He replied, hands on his hips. Tobirama nodded.

“Yes, we may need to send out a formal search party. Mrs. Masosuki is a very talented cook- is she the one who Mito has asked for the wedding?”

“Yes, the refreshments for the reception.” Hashirama grinned, the first time since the sentries had come back with their report. 

For a moment, his worries lightened. Mito had been very insistent on taking care of every detail, and Sayuriama had jumped in as her co-conspirator. They made a dreadfully competent team. 

Tobirama smirked at his brother's obvious infatuation. 

Well, one of them had to get married, Tobirama thought, and neither he nor Sayuriama seemed open to it. Tobirama thought of his long-dead fiancée, and how he felt when they were together. He couldn’t be jealous of Hashirama, but only happy. 

But the memory of losing her, the recent turmoil he was feeling seemed to bring him back to think of his sister. Sayuriama hardly knew how dear she was to him. She was his reason for building the village, so young women like her could live and marry the man they loved and have children who could do the same.

He stopped. 

Unless they were Madara Uchiha. 

“Lord Madara returns this week,” Tobirama said flatly, getting to the point of why he came. Hashirama knew that this talk had been coming and laughed awkwardly. 

“What are your suggestions?”’ Hashirama turned to his white-haired younger brother. Tobirama touched a red mark on his face, already three steps in every situation.

“I’ll be honest, Hashirama. I have no idea what to expect from her. That girl is truly the definition of unpredictable. Far too complex to be understood by us simple men.” Hashirama laughed.

“I can’t fight with that. Us, called the great Senju Brothers, have _no idea_ when it comes to dealing with our overly romantic younger sister. How history will laugh at us.” Tobirama put two fingers to his forehead. Hashirama had quite a sense of humor concerning them and their reputation. He couldn’t care less, but Tobirama did.

“What will we do? The Senju clan will cringe in shame and horror for centuries to come!” For once, Tobirama smiled, playing along. 

“We had better get the search party ready for tomorrow.” Nodding, Tobirama turned, waiting for Hashirama to fall in step with him. Realizing that it was going to be a long night, Hashirama yawned, then instructed the night guards to let Yasaiki Masosuki in, and inform him the minute he did get in.

“It could take all night.” He replied, making Hashirama sigh dejectedly.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

**\--X--**

In her room, Sayuriama had pulled back the curtains and opened the screen to let the wind blow in. Her view was spectacular, overlooking a grand part of the village, securely tucked away in the middle of the Senju compound.

It was a rare cool sunset, and she planned on relishing it.

Her hair floating in the breeze, relishing in the air that was tinted with the smell of the city just beyond the Senju walls. At her fingers was a scroll loaned by the highly intelligent Nara clan. They had been a bright, if not rather lazy, a recent addition to her class. They were cleverer than she, she suspected, but often slept in and missed the little quizzes she gave them to try and figure out just how smart they were.

She had been engrossed by the culture that had developed the deer loving nature when she heard distant thunder. 

Looking up she started staring at a distant storm that threatened the fringes of the village’s territory. Not enough to break the mood, but getting closer. It would be a wet, cold night. 

And she was alone.

With Tsunada no longer sleeping in her room, she had plenty of space to spread out to her heart's content, but the nightmares had yet to abate. It was hard to desire sleep with them, despite tomorrow having several classes filled with some of the more obnoxious teens in the village. 

Though Sayuriama didn’t sleep well, tonight she felt especially restless. The air was thick with anticipation that had been shrouded by the calm. 

She tightened her kimono as a sudden cold breeze hit her, and she tried ignoring the churning in her gut.

_I’m safe._

_Hashirama and Tobirama are here._

Sayuriama breathed in, the too humid air filling her lungs but doing little to fill her with relief. She exhaled, and still felt no give, and the storm got louder. As the air got cooler, and the storm closer, she slid shut the windows, checking Tsunada’s seals for good measure. 

_I am safe,_ she said to herself, not knowing it was a lie.


	11. Scroll 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll write more next time, I'm exhausted today. Go to sleep 2020, every day has been like a year.

Madara Uchiha looked at the soaked dirt road before him, already irritated at the feel of how his wet sandals would soon chafe. Poor weather was a fierce enemy for all shinobi, and not even he could outwit the early autumn storms that formed in minutes and poured like an old washerwoman getting rid of their buckets of filthy water.

But the rain was good, as the Uchiha had also seen the deserts of the Land of Sand, and much preferred the fruitful green foliage.

But as he raised his eyes to the distant rainforests that surrounded the Land of Fire, the mountains beyond thick with fog. He had that feeling, the instinct that he needed to make haste. 

He could race, and directly be at the village’s gate within an hour or so, but even if he did... it’s not like he could do much. Young women didn’t enjoy midnight intruders, and their brothers even less so. 

Besides, his courtship would need to adhere to the highest standards of Uchiha and Senju standards. It would be unprecedented, and each step would be filled with tradition, and likely, the most numbing decorum possible.

The other Uchiha Clan members would be startled at his break in protocol, and though most would eventually accept it, giving them a bone would make it smoother. After all, his tenure as Clan Leader wasn’t from tradition, but because there was no other Uchiha who could stand in his path. If this union was successful, he could very well cement his lineage forever and produce a child of which prophecy would bestow the strength of Uchiha and Senju.

it certainly would be novel.

As a matter of fact, he couldn’t think of one instance where an Uchiha Clan Head was joined in marriage with an outsider, though there were plenty of other clans that would do so.

But it was a risk. The girl would have to learn a countless number of Uchiha clan doings, change all her traditions, all while under intense scrutiny. He hoped his little Senju bird had a spine of steel, as she’d have to learn to rule as the clan mistress, and the woman wouldn’t always take kindly to an outsider, especially a Senju userper. She could easily become a mere figurehead if she didn’t learn to demand respect.

He wished Izuna were here. These were the sort of intricate problems were the things that Izuna thrived on, and Madara had never appreciated all he had done until it was too late. If Izuna could have gotten over the whole Senju aspect, he’d greatly enjoy teasing the beauty, especially as she was Madara’s prospective bride. He’d be a real pain in the rear.

The emptiness he had left in Madara’s soul was hard to fill. But for too long he had let Izuna’s memory be tainted by his own failings. Why had it taken this long to see the fractures he had obtained? It was not a surprise they were there, just that they hadn’t broken him yet. 

It was upon visiting his younger brother's grave that he had decided.

 _No more,_ he told the voice in his head, _she is the path I must choose._

 _You think so,_ answered the voice mimicking his brother, _you can’t lead without me. I am the shield, you are the spear, and without me, she will stab you in the back - You are blind to your desires._

 _No,_ he replied coolly as if he was splitting a throat, _I am the only Uchiha who can see._

He could save the Uchiha, and obtain stability for the entire shinobi world. For too long had his balance been askew. For too long he wavered between integrating his clan into the village while opening himself or to turn away from them completely and leaving forever with those who would follow. 

He wanted to stay.

But could the Uchiha find a place there?

He had once spoken to Hashirama on the cliffs that overlooked the village, and it seemed as if he could. If he became the Hokage, he would have no choice. Could he still lead? Be a figure of radical change and times? Tobirama would be pissed that Hashirama dared even suggest he be in charge. The village was getting closer to being stabilized, other wealthy patrons chipping in. Their own wealthy Lord only had to promise a little and then they could all move on. 

Still, the proposition had come to him, almost too much

_Put his ‘scary’ face on the mountain._ He thought that part was rather stupid. 

The idea seemed a bit far-fetched. But he had to know if there was even a chance Hashirama was right.

_“You don’t have brothers anymore... but I want you to think of all the shinobi in the village as your brothers.” Madara’s sharp eyes gazed at him as Hashirama had one of his few serious moments outside of battle. “I want you to watch over them.”_

_“I wasn’t able to even protect my Uchiha brethren.” The reckless man who had almost killed himself to prove his point. Madara didn’t bother turning._

_Hashirama raised his arms as if it didn’t matter._

_“There’s no time to complain!”_

_Hashirama had been so quick to call him his brother. Would he stand by it if Madara demanded him to prove it?_

A breeze passed him, wind unusually cold for running before a storm. It was refreshing.

_Would Hashirama be so eager to call him his brother when his young sister was on the line?_

As the wind slowly blew his dark hair, cleaning him with its soft whispers, it was like there was a musical sound in the air. Yes, he would test these ideas, and see if the Uchiha could survive in such a place.

_"Seeking stability, one god was divided into yin and yang, these opposing two acting together obtain all things in creation."_

**\--X--**

Sayuriama’s dark hair was loose, spread over her figure like finely woven silk, framing her all-too-lovely face. 

The long thick gray tendrils hesitated, and that was telling enough.

Even he, Kakuzu of Takigakure, had to admit that the Senju sister was unnatural in her beauty, and even if her worn expression seemed to indicate less than pleasant dreams it did not ruin the effect. 

Really, he mused, what did an enchantress worry about?

She hadn’t even experienced a drop of what was in store. Soon enough, she would be sold to the highest bidder, and he would be able to assassinate Hashirama Senju. How greedy were the Senju to think they could have both? His threads wrapped around her, blocking out the light, and he couldn’t help but smirk as her generous lips parted and for a moment formed a dazzling smile.

Something long-dead threatened to awaken in him, and he hesitated.

Without warning the door slammed open.

**\--X--**

Tsunada entered the room acting harried, a lantern swinging in her tight grip. The action caused Sayuriama to jump up, startled. The older woman observed the perimeter with sharp eyes, then went over to the window, slamming it open and shut again, causing Sayuriama to tiredly raise a brow.

For a moment she wondered if she was still dreaming as she watched the older woman perform hand signs and place a seal. 

Tsunada completed the seal, before glancing over. Relief washed over her, shoulders relaxing, and Sayuriama could sense the headache she’d have in the morning. But she smiled, waving her over.

“Tsunada?” She said, breaking the silence. The older woman picked up the lantern and put it down on the dresser, next to a glass vase. Sayuriama’s eyes widened as the older woman’s hand fumbled, a sign of unusual duress. “Tsu-”  
  


“A guard was found dead and your brothers asked me to check you.” She answered, cutting her off. 

Sayuriama moved over under the soft covers and Tsunada sat on the edge, putting her face in her hands. She looked tired and worn, and Sayuriama frowned at the dark circles under Tsunada’s eyes. Like a small child, she raised her hand and placed it on the older woman's back.

“Which guard?”

“Yasaiki Masosuki.” Sayuriama’s heart sunk. Not only was she good friends with his wife, teaching their kids, but Tsunada had been friendly for years with his mother. It was personal.

“The one who is doing Mito’s wedding?” She clarified, already knowing.

“Yes, her husband.”

Sayuriama didn’t say anything, watching as Tsunadad raised her right hand, the worn fingers white. She clenched it, and Sayuriama gasped as dark drops of blood appeared. They rolled down, red against white, and hit the cotton bed cover. Tsunada didn’t blink but just stared blankly. Sayuriama, in her panic, grabbed for a piece of rag, grabbing her hand and wrapping it in the dark cloth.

“Tsunada-” Sayuriama looked at the hand, tying it off, and then raised her hand to the older woman’s face. She lifted it, tilting it up to the mellow yellow light. Her red eyes narrowed in some sort of strong emotion at the agony that broke through her normally firm expression.

“You be careful as well,” Tsunada muttered like Sayuriama could choose such a thing. “I... I should stay-” 

“No. Go rest.” Sayuriama said, knowing Tsunada would want to go to the family and comfort her friends. And her voice turned even softer. “I’ll be fine. My brothers are near. They’ll understand.”

Tsunada paused, then nodded as Sayuriama nodded her away, rolling into the thin blankets. Tsunada sighed and pushed herself off the bed. She collected the lantern and walked out, only turning slightly at the door. 

Once the sound of footsteps abated, Sayuriama slipped out of the bed, moving to the windows that Tsunada had sealed. Through the gap, she could see the mob lights down in the village center, the distant sounds of mourning. Though they had all come from war, death was much worse now, when things seemed more stable.

Sayuriama was startled when she realized this was the first time she had experienced living through the violent death of someone she knew well. She had been so little with her brothers... it had never really hit. And the Shrine was a relatively peaceful place. It left her disturbed, shaking down to her very spirit.

She certainly wasn’t going to sleep without help tonight.

Leaving the window Sayuriama moved to the dresser, hand running across the surface. Reaching the glass vase she carefully moved it aside and ran her hand until she found the hidden latch. Pressing it revealed the secret little drawer, an old secret that her mother had only shown her.

She reached inside and pulled out a small glass jar filled with thin brown liquid.

Valerian Root, an oil emulsifier that let one rest. It was the only way Sayuriama had been sleeping since the whole debacle. She opened the jar top with a little pop and raised it to her mouth, tongue touching the top of the liquid. She pulled back with a wrinkled nose, putting the porcelain jar tucked in its hideaway once again. 

She grimaced at the taste, but almost immediately she fell into a comfortable lethargy. Warmth filled her, and she stumbled back, wondering why she had been so upset. Her knees hit the raised bed frame and fell back in a sturdy sleep.

There would be no dreams, at least for tonight.

**\--X--**

Kakuzu slipped out of the closet, hardly believing his luck. He had become worried about sensing the old women’s ­chakra, which was surprisingly powerful. He immediately recognized the Senju’s _Golden Arrow_ and was disappointed by seeing her. She was well past her prime, age had brought a once-legendary ninja down. 

But her bounty was peanuts compared to this girl.

Long strings of coarse hair twisted out of the coat Kakuzu wore, fastidiously circling her. Any hesitation was gone, and since she had drugged herself, he felt no worries jerking her around once again went around the figure, perhaps a bit less gentle than before. He did not worry to wake her, as she was already in her drug-induced stupor.

Foolish girl.

He took the blanket, making haste as he did only have a few minutes before someone else would come. That fool he had killed had somehow gotten a message, and once the Senju discovered that the girl was the objective... She’d never sleep alone.

He went towards the window with his bounty, breaking the seal and jumping out. He scaled the large wooden wall, and was out of the village in seconds, the chaos working in his favor. He smirked behind his mask, his Glasgow mouth twisting gruesomely.

They would be too late when the broken seal alarmed them. 

He waited until he was ten miles out, and only then did he slow down his canter, letting the threads loosen and deposit the girl on his shoulder. 

Her soft cheek pressed against his neck, and through his rough mask, he could feel her heat. The tendrils of hair wrapped her slender form close to his rough one and he once again took off into the black night, green eyes gleaming. Her soft breath tickled his ear as she slowly breathed in her torpor.

The soft moonlight filtered through the trees, and only the normal music of the night echoed.

**\--X--**

Mito and Hashirama were spending a rare precious moment together, and despite the circumstances, it was hard for both to remain as stoic as demanded. It was the quirk of Mito’s grin that caused Hashirama to cover his mouth, twisting towards her. 

She leaned forward slightly, her brilliant orange hair gleamed in the early morning light, and Hashirama raised a rough hand to brush it back. He gently moved it and they both leaned forward, almost subconsciously. For a moment, time disappeared, and their lips gently touched.

The teacup on the table cracked.

They both pulled back, looking at it in surprise. Hashirama leaned forward, finger grazing the broken porcelain as his brows furrowed. 

A fervent knock interrupted them, and Tobirama only gave them little warning before he broke in. His silver guard was missing, a sure sign he had been sleeping. 

“Ah. I thought I’d find you two in here.” He said, voice rather dry.

“Yes. We were discussing the plans of ninja ranks.” 

Tobirama smiled wryly at Hashirama’s excuse. He would have made some sort of sarcastic joke about the situation, but he was distracted.

“That Uchiha is almost back. He’s approaching the gates.”

Hashirama and Mito looked at each other and both stood up with near synchronization.

“ _Madara_ , Tobirama,” Hashirama said softly, wishing his brother was not so stubborn and set in his ways. “Which?” Hashirama asked, giving his brother the choice.

“I’ll take Sayuriama. I suppose we’re still telling her of his return?” Tobirama drawled.

Mito and Hashirama raised their eyebrows at his choice. 

“Playing with fire?” Mito lightly asked Tobirama.

“We are in The Land of Fire.” He replied sassily, his white hair fluffing. Mito and Hashirama nodded, and both walked to the entrance, not ready to meet Madara, hand in hand.

**\--X--**

“Lord Madara!” 

The said man pulled a hand through his dark hair, looking at the all-too-familiar Hayo Uchiha, breaking from the line of Uchiha waiting for him at the gate. 

Behind him stood Hikaku, Saburo, Setsuna, Taji, and even little Kagami. He could sense Ashura and his ilk as well.

He was rather surprised to see Hashirama and his Uzumaki fiancee there, albeit giving the Uchiha Clan Members first dibs on his attention. He ignored the all-to-friendly wave.

He was not disappointed that Tobirama was nowhere near, but the dark-haired Senju beauty was missing. He didn’t know why he thought she would come after their last parting, but still. Women were pliant, forgiving, and would listen when told.

Instead of an Uchiha Clan Mistress, he was greeted by a bevy of fools. Next time, he decided, he would be greeted appropriately.

As he stepped inside the gates he nodded to his clan’s men, who returned the gesture with a respectful bow, varying in-depth with their station. 

“Lord Madara,” Hikaku began, “Your orders have been followed. I have the review on your desk.” Saburo nudged Hikaku, urging him to stand at attention out of his bow.

“Well done. I assume Saburo has finished as well.” Hikaku was wise to not mention how it had been a close call. Only yesterday were the tatami finished, walls painted, floors waxed, and furniture placed in the Clan Mistresses’ rooms. If Saburo had been waxing floors at two AM to ensure it, that was his secret.

“Yes sir.” Hikaku was well in-tune with the Clan Leader and knew he was in a rare good mood. He dared an impertinent question as Madara turned to leave. “Are we to bring out the Clan Mistress’s traditional wardrobe as well, my Lord?”

The sly look on Madara’s face made him nervous, the way his eyes bored into him was a terrible moment, but he was pleasantly surprised to be rewarded with a smirk.

“Make ready the wedding robes.”

Hikaku almost jumped for joy, which would have been a sight, as he was closer to sixty. But the idea of _stability_ and their tenacious clan leader agreeing to be wed was one of celebration indeed.

The shifting of the rest of the clan members was enough to ignite Madara’s irritation. He didn’t need Hayo’s smarmy look of adoration, nor Setsuna’s firm approval. He dismissed them with a wave, telling them to send him fresh food and clothes. After they were off, he was intercepted by Hashirama, albeit more willingly than he let on.

This next conversation would require... tact. Perhaps it could wait until he had slept. Yes, he decided, better to do some review of the situation before presenting his case.

Madara tried not to look too sour to his future brother-in-law.

Even if the idea irritated him to his soul.

“Madara,” Hashirama grinned widely, “How are your clansmen? Any news at the borders?”

He shrugged surreptitiously, avoiding the Uzumaki woman’s gaze. He had the distinct feeling she was giving him a rather strained look of bare tolerance. 

“They are well. Did the Daimyo respond to the latest advances?” Madara said curtly, changing the subject. He was starting to feel the strain of the situation, and the nightlong sojourn through the woods. He had little desire to stay and prattle when there was no real pressing news. He may inadvertently let something slip.

Hashirama, infuriatingly, took it as a sign to delve into a conversation. Not even Mito gently clearing her throat clued him in.

“The Daimyo has decided to attend our wedding. He was rather insistent about being settled near you if you would like to come. It looks like he was impressed by your visit.” Hashirama had reserved him a place of high honor, supplanting many other family members who deserved a spot by the sound of things.

Madara raised a brow, noting Mito’s cool face. It looks like Hashirama hadn’t discussed it with his bride either.

How appropriate, he mused. A sure way to see his future bride, if things turned difficult.

“I’m flattered that you met me all the way out here, Hashirama, and to invite me to your wedding?” Hashirama laughed, raising his hands as Mito put a finger to the bridge of her nose. Madara raised a hand, casually as if they were family already. “Of course, the Uchiha Clan would be honored.”

Hashirama's mouth opened a bit, ends quirking before turning up. It was clear he had expected more to push and prod in his usual way to get him to come. Mito’s eyes widened, and her shrew look returned in full force, and he wondered if she had seen straight through him. He wondered how much Sayuriama had revealed, and if he’d have to teach her to hold her tongue.

“Wonderful!” Hashirama said, and Madara dodged the heavy-handed pat on the back that would put a lesser man into the ground. It was clear the Uzumaki woman would have her hands full with this giant man-toddler. “I’m so glad you agreed! I was so sure you would say no-”

Madara walked past the couple, only turning his head.

“Hashirama aren’t you the one always harping about the village being a family?” He said, hand on his hip. “To impress our daimyo friend, we need to show a united front. Show him clan unity to quell his misbelief about our stability.”

Hashirama was positively beaming, but Madara could still sense the woman’s mistrust, like waves of the sea. But he found one thing to be grateful for, when she tapped Hashirama’s shoulder, moving before him.

“We’re very pleased with returning, Lord Uchiha. You must be tired.” Her smile was terse, but Madara nodded as politely as he could. After all, the Uzumaki would be his sister by marriage soon.

“I... appreciate the sentiment-” He began-

The small talk stopped when a flash of white hair appeared.

Tobirama, in full battle regalia, came to a stop, frantic and worried, not even bothering to acknowledge Madara. Hashirama instantly braced himself, and Mito's eyes widened in shock. 

Madara took a step back and his hand automatically went to the battle fan strapped to his back.

“Sayuri-Sayuri…” Tobirama looked downright frantic. Hashirama’s eyes narrowed and Madara felt his lungs stop at the name, and he braced himself for the worst. Hashirama rushed forward, grabbing Tobirama’s arm guard.

“Tobirama- _What_?”

Tobirama snapped out of it.

“She’s missing- the foreigner who got Masosuki. Tsunada put a seal to ensure her safety, and it’s been broken.” Hashirama’s face went through a myriad of expressions, before settling one Madara had only seen him use in battle.

His chakra flared at the shinobi who _dared_.

Madara looked in contempt and anger, an arrogant brow raised. How could they not take care to _watch_ her? Hashirama turned to the forest.

“Assemble the clan. I’m afraid, Madara, that we caught you at a bad time. I guess I’ll be leaving the village to you for a while.” Madara was surprised at Hashirama’s dark attitude, the obvious anger he was displaying. 

“No, Hashirama.” He stated. “That won’t do.”

His frankness caught the other three off guard.

“The Uchiha clan will assist in searching for Lady Senju.” Madara declared. Hashirama put his head down in surprise but lifted it in a smile. 

Tobirama stood in dismay but was far too worried to argue. 

Mito, in the way only females understand, crossed her arms and responded, taking control of the situation.

“Indeed, Lord Madara.” 

This was enough to spur Hashirama into action.

“We won’t refuse you. We will all gather those willing and set out immediately. Take the falcon carriers for speed. Tobirama, since you’re ready, leave immediately. Once Madara and I set up proxies for the situation, we’ll find you.” 

Madara cut in.

“If we are unable to find her, meet back in Konoha in three days,” He added, teeth grinding. The four took off in opposite directions. Tobirama to the forest, Hashirama, and Mito to the Senju compound, and Madara Uchiha, to the Uchiha compound.

Time was ticking.

Madara _would_ brutally murder whatever bastard dared to interfere in his plans. This girl was _his,_ he repeated _._

His hands grabbed the battle fan even tighter, causing the handle to break. He dropped the useless weapon, flinging it a good half a mile in the air. He propelled himself over the fence and startled a good number of people with his sudden entrance.

“Lord Madara-“ Asmo, a young guard shinobi began to say, “We are glad-”

He cut in, taking control of the situation.

“Sayuriama Senju has been kidnapped. We are going to assist the Senju clan in retrieving her.”

  
  


The Uchiha clan made haste, not a single one questioning his directive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When a guy decides you're going to marry him and isn't even a CEO. The gall.


	12. Scroll 12

Endless forests, verdant green leaves, viridescent moss, sagebrush, and other thick rural foliage were both the strength and weakness of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Difficult to travel through, great for espionage, and almost impossible to track a missing person in (without ninjutsu at least).

The village had done a phenomenal job of carving out space and mapping the better-traveled areas, but there was little to be done in the thickest, wildest parts. Madara had spent much of his childhood hunting through the jungle of the Land of Fire, and he knew best when to take a moment to reorient himself.

Reorient, he told himself. This was not a break.

His posture, casually leaning against a tree, wouldn’t betray his thoughts. He had long conquered his body, and he would be dead before it betrayed him. But he recognized when he was fatigued to the point of nonsense thoughts. To the point of fear and panic. Not even Madara’s body could keep up with his steel willpower in this situation. He needed to rest soon.

Whether or not he had been dozing was a nonstarter topic, and Hikaku knew better than to ask questions that he knew the answer to. They both knew he was awake the moment Hikaku approached him.

“Lord Madara,” Hikaku said, appearing like a phantom before his clan leader. He bowed, respectfully. 

“Speak.”

“I have an update from Setsuna. No leads towards the Land of Wind, and Ashura reports that the Land of Lightning is clear as well.”

“Well then. The rumors from the Black Markets still lead us towards the Land of Rocks or Waterfalls.” He replied, mind already formulating on his next move. 

The tracks of a fearsome bounty hunter accompanied by a woman of incomparable beauty and a terrible temper had filtered through the underground spectacularly, giving them an early clue, but the situation was looking poor. If another village or a feudal lord obtained the woman before they did it was hard to say what would happen.

Nothing good for her. 

Madara concealed his frustration, continuing to stand like a statue as his men returned to him for check-ins. It had been too long, he knew. Things were at a dangerous point.

“Instructions, sir?” Hikaku replied, the older man's face set in a look of concern for his overtired Clan Leader. The ever-darkening creases under his eyes appearing almost painfully deep. He pitied the bounty hunter who had dared steal the Senju girl. He would very well die for the offense, and he had not only the Senju’s anger to contend with, but for some reason, the Uchiha’s. And Madara, tired, could still decimate most opponents. 

_Post-travel_ _Madara_ was especially fearsome.

“Hmph.”

“Lord Madara?” Hikaku Uchiha said again, waiting for an order. 

Madara gritted his teeth. His presence flared with a menacing throb, like a building thundercloud. The raw display of chakra surprised Hikaku. 

“Does it look as if I have the girl? Keep searching. And have them double-check those results. It could be a diversion, especially the news from Land of Lightning. And tell them to be  _ quick _ .” 

“Of course, my apologies, my lord.” 

Hikaku forced the anxiety of the imminent explosion down, unsure what would happen if they failed. It sent him back to when the Clan Leader was a mere foundling with chakra that was wild and uncontrolled, and almost too great for him to wield. 

Though Hikaku maneuvered the moods of the overtired clan leader better than most he stepped carefully, not giving Madara an opening to be angry at him. He was surprised at the sheer effort Madara was putting forth for the Senju Clan.

_ A bad feeling, an insane idea struck him. _

_ The Senju girl?  _

_ Surely… not... _

But...

Madara was very much acting like he was ten years younger, Hikaku mused. Back when Madara  _ was  _ the world for the Uchiha, the undisputed king with an iron hold on the future.  _ Back when his charisma and power took a dying clan back into a contender of the highest caliber, the Madara that was opposed by none. _

The Madara who was backed by the sly and intelligent Izuna.

And here was that same Madara, that same  _ fire, _ willing to search for a  _ Senju  _ woman. Hikaku was now worried, and a bit intrigued, but one thing was transparently clear. 

They had to save the Senju girl.

**\--X--**

“Next time I see those fools, I’ll do them a favor and sew their mouths shut-” A pause and an exasperated growl and the sound of money being shuffling. “ _ Woman, did you want me to kill you? _ ” 

Sayuriama smiled disparagingly, one leg already over the entrance of the jagged edge of the cave, trying to sneak out. They both had stopped the false manners after she reamed him that first time, disparaging his appearance, his skills, and his manners as a pathetic joke that only the lowest of worms aspire.

“I am not obliged to answer that, right?” She cooed, dirty hair falling in her face. 

Kakazu snarled, clicking his beloved leather satchel closed.

“No then.” She slid to the other side, dashing for freedom. It was an exercise in futility, but she had found nothing better to do this last week than to bother her captor. He deserved it.

“If you were to take even a moment to calculate the probability of your situation, you wouldn’t be wearing a smile.” He growled. “Those who follow will be too late to find you, and you’ll be snugly situated in a haram.”

“Sir, I hardly prescribe my confidence to  _ your  _ words.” She said arrogantly. “My brothers will find me, and you will be very sorry we ever met.”

He didn’t mention that he  _ was  _ already very sorry, especially since she used the declaration to jump out of the cave they had been hiding in. It irritated him beyond belief since he knew that  _ she  _ knew what she had no chance of getting away.

Long tentacles flew from the tall figure, wrapping around and immobilizing the girl in seconds. Sayuriama gave a squawk of disgust, which was cut off as one of the strands was stuffed in her mouth-  _ his twisted  _ form of punishment as he didn’t want to batter her up  _ too _ much. There was far too much money to outright harm or violate her. That Daimyo of the Land of Earth wanted her whole and untouched.

He growled, biting down on his lip.

“You’re terribly annoying for a noble girl. If the money hadn’t been so good, it wouldn’t have been worth the time to tote you around.” The girl narrowed her eyes, glaring with full force. Her kidnapper hadn’t actually discussed his entire plan to her, but his obvious hints were enough. 

He wanted to be followed. 

When Sayuriama had finally woken up from her stupor, she hadn’t really known what to think. She had been having a dreamless sleep, and for a moment she imagined that she had stumbled into another nightmare. The Valerian Root didn’t often have side effects, and she soon realized that the unthinkable had happened. 

She, the younger Sister of the Great Senju Brothers, had actually been kidnapped!

Her own actions and prying had done little. 

The man who was carrying her didn’t realize that she was awake, and she kept it that way until the opportunity to strike arose. Once he was in position she kicked him hard as she could in where she estimated his tender parts were. 

The man, shocked, accidentally dropped her as like any man, he went to clutch the said area.

Which left her flying.

She let out a yelp, then hit the tree branch underneath, not realizing they had been mid-air. The breath left her chest as the wood hit into her, but she managed to  _ almost  _ grab a hold,  _ almost  _ stopping the fall that was at least thirty feet down.

She actually thought the oncoming ground might be her end, except for a sudden force grabbing her ankle, spraining it, and saving her.

_ “You bitch.” The ninja sneered, holding her upside down. The moonlight revealed a shinobi that was wretchedly ugly, and very upset with her.  _

_ Even in her pain, she managed to smirk. _

_ “I suppose the insult suits both of us.”  _

Her kidnapper had not been impressed with her smart mouth. He often used whatever ninjutsu he used to shut her mouth. It wasn’t the first time, but she still choked and gagged at having that disgusting, greasy thing touching her skin in any way. She always tried to rip it out, but her arms soon followed in captivity. He pulled her back into the cave.

“Do you want me to kill you, female?” He growled, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him straight in his dull-colored eyes. 

_ Please,  _ she wanted to demand,  _ let’s see if you have the pride, beast. _

“Oh?” Her voice deepened, conveying the message without being so vulgar. If she had learned one thing, it was that this creature loved money, and she was worth quite a lot on the black market. 

The man at the collection office had offered to pay 40 million for her. With the way the man talked about money, she was sure she was about to trade hands. But it assured her of her worth and knew he wouldn’t hurt her. It didn’t mean her treated her well, fed her enough, nor let her sleep very much. He also generally called her things like  _ investment  _ or  _ 40-mil _ . 

“Takigakure.” That was all he grumbled, sounding a bit upset. He said it more as if to remind himself than for her. The threads set her down, only binding her ankles. He was constantly referring to her as an  _ investment _ and pretty much made everything seem like an opportunity to make some change. He hardly fed her, they never slept in buildings and were constantly moving. But bit by bit she had figured him out. His  _ name,  _ Kakuzu, his village, the waterfall one, and his jutsu.

“Soon enough, female, you’ll be at your new home. And Hashirama Senju will be in my hands.” Surprise was an understatement to what she felt. 

The real prize, as always: Her brothers. 

“You joke.” She drawled imperiously. “You  _ are _ a joke compared to my own siblings' power.”

“Everyone has a weakness.” He said cryptically. “You are theirs.”

It all made sense and dread filled her. She was  _ bait _ . If Hashirama or Tobirama found her, they’d fall into his trap. Even the most powerful shinobi could fall prey to their emotions. What could she do?

Nothing.

_ You’re useless. _

She had no power to overpower him. She grunted, her arms wrapped around the tattered robe she had been wearing since the kidnapping. Despite her outward confidence, each hour that trickled away chipped at her nerves. 

_ This is your fault. _

Sayuriama closed her eyes, bowing in on herself. Her confidence wasn’t going to last much longer. 

_ Your fault. _

_ Useless. _

They hadn’t secretly crept through the forests but had left a trail behind them. Foreign shinobi had been  _ killed  _ on her behalf, just because they had seen a beautiful captive in need. She had been used as bait to trap others on their path and had hidden her face behind her hands, hiding her fingers. 

_ Bait. _

**_Weak._ **

The trauma was going to hit at some point. They had been constantly moving, so it only fit that the first quiet moment where she wasn’t exhausted was going to be terrible. 

_ It was raining that night. _

It had been so long since she had been seeped in death, and was washing over her as if she was laying down in a hot spring. Her lungs thickened with the silence, filled with liquid and her breath became short. 

_ Rain so thick that her mother said it was going to drown them if they didn’t keep running. _

Wide eyes of warriors, life leaving as her captor cracked their necks. That hadn’t been the worst. Men ripped from limbs as the monster  _ twisted  _ the body into shapes unnatural. 

_ Cold eyes from men who were more violent than kind.  _

_ “Hold still, pretty one. It’ll only take a moment.” A low voice said. _

_ “Quickly,” Cried another, “Can’t wait forever.” _

_ “DO IT NOW!” _

.

.

.

**“We’re leaving.”**

Sayuriama blinked, awakening from her nightmarish daydreams of a time long ago. The creature-man didn’t speak again, merely ensnared her in his threads and began again. If he noticed how white she was he didn’t mention it.

Despite being jostled, stomach bruised, Sayuriama’s gaze only became steelier. No more complaining, no more excuses unless it pushed her out of his hands. 

This man  _ will not  _ harm a single hair on her brother’s heads. She’d ensure it. 

The kidnapper only let her off his shoulder for one small break that day. Sayuriama’s stomach may have been permanently bruised at the jostling. The kidnapper was not a smooth runner and jumped from tree to tree roughly. A few times she tried to throw up, just to irritate him. That stopped after he threw her in a river, almost drowning her.

The kidnapper had practically tossed the drenched girl to the ground when they had reached the small cave. The tentacles returned to his sleeves, releasing her. She tightened her robe. 

She immediately turned to the entrance, crossing her arms. 

The kidnapper glanced her way, that long-suffering look crossing his face. He slowly raised an eyebrow, setting his leather satchel down, carefully.

The motion caused an idea to click in her head. A bad, terrible idea that would almost certainly cause the man to lose his cool, cause a ruckus, and give her time to escape. 

He has no clue of her machinations, and he remained squarely turned away, physically blocking her out with his large size. He was obviously so sure of his own abilities to not even pay attention, opening his leather satchel to gaze fondly at the one thing in life he cared for, his money.

Kneeling, she found the _Pièce de résistance_ of her plan; a rock. 

Gathering courage she picked it up, looking over its grooves and divots as it turned. 

With all her might, she threw it towards his head.

He caught it, ready to give her his most dismissive look.

It worked. 

She dived to the side, his money case in her view and he saw her goal a moment too late. 

She half crashed into the leather satchel, though he ended up taking a swift punch to his ribs. He was too large for it to affect him much, but his bag, as well as the money scattered. 

Banknotes floated into the air, twirling, and dancing. 

She heard her captor let out a breath of deep offense, and she smirked, wholly satisfied. This would take hours to pick them all up, giving her brothers time to find them or for her to escape. She fell off him, falling back to the floor and towards the opening of the cave.

“Damn you.” He said, and she glanced back. 

The creature hadn’t moved, shoulders totally straight and tense. He was a taut cord, unhinged in silent anger. Money fluttered around him, but he didn’t disgrace himself by kneeling to pick it up.

Fear struck her heart and Sayuriama broke into a full run. 

She didn’t see his hands twitch.

But she felt it. Right at the mouth of the cave, an invisible cord tightened around her neck. Before her bare foot hit the last rock she was tugged back into the darkness. Her shoulder hit the cave floor, sending painful spasms through her body, causing her to roll into the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him, walking like a demon towards her. 

“Do you think that you are too beautiful to kill?” He said quietly. She rolled to her knees, ignoring the blood coming out of her nose. His cords tightened. 

She sneered, raising to beat him off. But he was too quick. He knelt, hand gripping her throat, closing her air off centimeter by centimeter. Black spots appeared at the side of her vision, her head feeling too light. She no longer felt her body, just the lack of air.

Rough chokes echoed in the cavern, and she realized they were hers.

“You were wrong.”

**\--X--**

“Lord Madara!” 

Daylight flooded Madara’s vision as he snapped his eyes open. He sneered his nap being wakened, in a moment the reckless man held up by the throat. He pulled a hand through his wild hair as the young man struggled for air, and it took him a moment to recognize the boy.

“ _ Boy _ .” He growled.

To Madara’s distaste, it was Hayo who had come. Instead of killing him, he controlled himself, letting the boy fall to the ground and live for another day.

Yes, Hikaku had set Hayo up, perhaps as punishment for endlessly annoying Hikaku over the last months begging for permission to propose to a ‘mysterious’ clan outsider. He had been flaunting his acquaintance with the Senju Clan, much to his Clansmen’s disapproval. He clearly felt like Hayo was overstepping his bounds.

But Hayo didn’t get a chance to speak, as at that moment Setsuna appeared, looking wild. 

“Lord Hashirama requests your back up immediately!”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> When you're obsessed with Madara Uchiha and there is a pandemic, and so you edit your old fanfiction and post it again.


End file.
